The Tales of Recline the Berthformer
by femme4jack
Summary: "So," Spike asked the berthformer, looking puzzled, "when you recharge, do you do it on a bed or as a bed?"
1. Intro

**Title:** Intro - The Tales of Recline the Berthformer  
**Fandom:** G1-ish (but I imagine them looking like TF Prime mechs because they are so pretty).  
**Notes:** The other morning I was lamenting that my futon mattress slips down my futon in "couch mode", which then led to the creation of a new OC, Recline, who is a berthformer. He is such a sweetspark, and loves his function. Then twitfics happened (as in stories of 140 characters or less). I think I have a new favorite OC. Here are the initial "twitfics", with longer ficlets and oneshots to follow. Minor mention of tentacles this chapter.

* * *

"Come to bed," Recline said invitingly.

"Recline are you trying to seduce me?" asked Optimus, not really minding. (twitfic reply by Spacehussy)

Recline just bounced happily, setting himself to extra plush and starting his vibration sequence.

* * *

"Sorry, sir," Recline the berthformer said innocently, tightening the restraints, "I'm under orders to make sure you get a full rest cycle."

* * *

Ultra Magnus decided he would take this matter up with Rodimus later, never suspecting it was Kup looking after him this time. (twitfic by Merfilly)

* * *

Prowl decided the only logical course was to sink his panels further into the soft mesh and enjoy Recline's thorough attentions.

* * *

Recline's shifts with Rodimus always sounded like a teenage girls' slumber party, complete with hysterical giggling.

* * *

"So," Spike asked the berthformer, looking puzzled, "when you recharge, do you do it on a bed or as a bed?"

* * *

When Optimus arrived in his quarters, he did a double take seeing Recline arranged seductively on his side on the berth.

* * *

Recline rocked himself gently, making soothing, clicking sounds to the mech curled up in his cables.

* * *

"Any special requests tonight?" Recline asked sweetly. "How about ocean waves & tentacles," the sleepy mech mumbled, snuggling in.

* * *

Recline put his whole spark into his function. Thankfully, First Aid always kept a visor on when someone needed to tend to berthformer.


	2. Slipping to Horizontal

**Title:** Slipping to Horizontal  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Fandom:** G1-ish (but I kind of imagine them looking more like the bots from TF Prime because they are so pretty)  
**Characters/Pairing:** Prowl/OC (Recline, the Berthformer)

**Content:** Mildly cracky, OC, mild field and tactile intimacy, alludes to PnP, enforced recharge by medical orders

**Notes:** Written for speedwriting Prompt 1 April 14 – Make the unsexy sexy. Choose an aspect of TFs that you don't think of as particularly sexy - not something you actively dislike, but something that you haven't given much thought to before. Now, write it like it's the hottest thing your character(s) can imagine. ___While what happens in bed can be sexy, I've never found beds to be particularly sexy in and of themselves, even the ones meant to be so. Prowl most certainly has never thought berths were sexy before ;)_

My goal is to write a Recline "episode" for each speedwriting prompt this week to overcome my block on my longfics. Cheer me on!

* * *

Prowl had never given much thought to berths, or recharge for that matter. The former was an unneeded luxury that took up valuable mechanometers of space. The latter was a necessity to be tolerated. For Prowl, recharging was something to be done only when his systems insisted upon it and the error messages could no longer be dismissed without serious systems failures, and then only for as long as was needed to defragment and resume his work at an acceptable processing capacity.

He rarely recharged in a berth. He did not, for one, care to lie on his front, and most berths were not designed with his sensor panels in mind. In addition, there was truly no benefit to being in a horizontal position for recharge over a vertical one. He preferred his office chair, or, when chronic shortage required a far deeper level of shut down, one of the stasis pods in Medical.

Prowl had argued against the enlistment of the mech whose office he now found himself in. Berthformers, in Prowl's opinion, were a throwback to the era of privileged towerlings, for whom having sparked dwellings, and even, for the wealthiest, furnishings, was a sign of prestige. While Prowl would never advocate the extermination of useless frame classes as Megatron had, he could, privately, understand the logic of the warlord's position on those whose only function was luxury and consumption of needed resources. While Prowl did not wish to see them smelted any more than other sparked beings, he would not have objected to subsidized reformats, or at least a ban on the building of future generations.

Yet, Optimus Prime had welcomed Recline's enlistment with the warmth and open arms he was known for, giving Prowl that patented look of extreme disappointment when his lieutenant made his arguments regarding the shortage of energon and the superfluous nature of the berthformer's function. It was not as though the berthformer had any practical skills that could be used in the army! Truly, he was just taking up space and energon.

As far as Prowl was concerned, Recline should have been sent to a neutral refugee settlement to await emigration to one of the safer colony worlds, leaving Cybertron for those suited to war. The berthformer most certainly should not have been provided with quarters as well as a full office to which he had a steady stream of what he termed "patients".

And now Prowl, by the order of their pit-spawned glitch of a CMO, was one of those patients, and would not be leaving this particular office until he had spent an entire rest cycle in a horizontal position on the berthformer (who was currently sitting in a relaxed pose on the chair across from Prowl's own, explaining the benefits of magnesium ascorbate-laced energon and the fascinating sabbatical he took on Somulus 4 studying organic dreaming practices with the shamans there).

"Prowl," Recline's soft, gentle tone interrupted his musings (though not the multiple other subroutines Prowl was running on the strategic analysis he had downloaded to his own processors to work on through this otherwise wasted shift). "I know you don't wish to be here. However, I am sure you understand my orders. Obviously I will not force you to lie down and put your battle computer on standby, but I am required to report to Ratchet the results of this session, and he will simply order you here for another rest cycle."

"Actually," Prowl corrected flatly, "he is more likely to take me off duty altogether until he gets his way."

"So, it would seem to be in your best interest to enjoy what I have to offer. I promise you will find yourself more efficient in the coming cycles."

"In the unlikely event your are correct, I will certainly use that increased efficiency to make up for the joors I am losing here."

Recline smiled, taking no offense. "In which case you will not have lost any time at all," he said brightly, standing and moving his chair aside, along with the carafe of energon whose alleged additive-properties Prowl had reason to find extremely doubtful (especially considering they were reportedly tinctures that had "imprinted" the energy of minerals and herbs indigenous only to worlds with organic life).

"Your calculations are flawed," Prowl felt compelled to add. "While I might be making up the time I have lost this cycle, I will lose valuable work time while I am making this time up."

Recline cocked his helm, looking down at Prowl with a gently amused expression. "Then I hope that you will, in the end, find this time worth that loss," he said as he initiated his transformation sequence.

Prowl had never given much thought to berths, or recharge for that matter. The former was an unneeded luxury that took up valuable mechanometers of space. The latter was a necessity to be tolerated.

He could not have predicted his response to observing Recline transform to his berthform for the first time, no matter how much data his battle computer had been provided on the topic. _Transform_ seemed a misnomer for the process. Sensuously melted was more fitting. Where a tall, lightly armored mech had stood, there was now a berth, though again, using that utilitarian glyph to describe what was now before him was almost enough to make Prowl's logic center ping him with an error.

Recline in his berth mode could only be described as a work of art (a topic Prowl normally, like berthformers, dismissed as superfluous). The charging platform itself was sensuously angled and curved in a pattern Prowl thought he should recognize. The recharge ports lining the platform's surface were surrounded by fractal designs. The seemingly random markings on Recline's mech form were now revealed to be swirling glyphs etched in the ancient calligraphic style, as well as the writing of at least a dozen other species, covering the sides and legs of the berth.

Poems, invocations, and blessings, Prowl quickly realized, all invoking peace, rest, and renewal, as well as the enlightenment some organics believed came from their random sleep-induced neural activity. However, he could not bring himself to fault the overall effect. For the first time he truly took stock of Recline's office, noting the details he had duly shunted to his secondary processors when he had reported there as ordered. In the soft, dim light, Recline's silver finish reflected the swirl of chromatonites on the walls and ceiling, suggestive of distant nebulae and star nurseries. A miniature crystal garden was growing in one corner of the room, surrounded by a mercury fountain adding it's silvery melody to the ambiance. Reflections from both crystals and mercury danced and shimmered on the walls and on Recline's plating.

"Would you like to lie down, Prowl?" Recline asked, and for the first time Prowl noted just how smooth and warm the mech's tone was.

"I suppose I should get this over with," Prowl said, though with far less conviction than before. He took a step closer and noted two deep clefts in the surface curvature of Recline's charging platform, right where Prowl's sensor panels would be. A quick scan revealed that the curvature of the rest of the platform was the perfect shape to match Prowl's dorsal surface.

Prowl briefly hesitated before sitting on the recharge platform, which rose to just the correct height for him to do so without any strain to his hydraulics or joints. This close, he could feel Recline's field, adjusting and meshing with his own. It was intimate without being intrusive, the resonance obviously brought into harmony with his to give the impression of being welcomed by something that was a part of himself.

"Please let me know if I need to make any adjustments to my shape or field harmonics, Prowl," Recline practically purred as Prowl matched the angles and curves to the perfectly shaped platform, sinking his sensor panels into the softly enveloping clefts that felt as though they were filled with a stiff, warm gel below their mesh surface. He could feel Recline's surface making minor adjustments, adding support to his joints, filling in his armor gaps, and gently squeezing around his panels in a manner that was pleasant rather than irritating. Enveloped as they were, there was little point of continuing to scan with them, but rather than switch off the feed entirely, he opted to enjoy the gentle pressure and heat against them.

Prowl could feel the spin of Recline's spark, just below his own, matching speeds even as his field became more thoroughly enmeshed by the berthformer's. Slowly, the spin of both sparks began to slow, though it was not clear whether Recline's was following Prowl's own, or actively inducing the change.

The whole effect was exquisite, unlike anything Prowl had ever felt before.

He heard Recline's charging ports spiraling open invitingly, as well as the rustle of his cables emerging. "Prowl, are you comfortable?" he asked with a soft, musical lilt.

"It is... acceptable," Prowl offered, his systems heating several degrees in anticipation of plugging in and being plugged in turn. He had not planned on doing so, yet now could not quite recall why he should object.

"Do you wish to overload before I initiate your recharge cycle?" Recline asked softly.

Prowl considered for a moment. Like recharge itself, overloads were necessary, and something he typically dealt with as efficiently as possible.

Nothing about Recline was efficient, and rather than the annoyance that should cause him, Prowl felt his spark stutter for a moment in anticipation of what that might be like.

"I will leave that up to your professional discretion," Prowl finally said, his own ports opening in invitation.

After all, he thought decisively, if he had to endure this waste of his time, he might as well experience the full effects.


	3. Ultra Plush

**Title:** Ultra Plush  
**Rating:** R  
**Fandom:** G1-ish  
**Characters/Relationship:** Wheeljack/OC (Recline the Berthformer)

**Content:** oc, fluff (lots of it), schmoop, crack, bondage and confinement, exposure and deep penetration of mechanical systems, tentacle-like fingerlings, PnP, alien sensuality

**Notes:** More Recline the Berthformer. Written for the tf_speedwriting prompt _Scenario: intimacy in a confined space_

* * *

The device's purpose, Wheeljack had said, was to enhance the unique abilities of the mechs exposed to its wavelengths by supercharging the nanites that coded those particular abilities. For Ratchet, it would mean greater efficiency when it came to the internal fabrication of parts. For Mirage, a far longer period in which he could safely engage his pattern disruptor. Hound's holograms, likewise, could be more expansive, utilizing hardlight technology without draining his reserves.

Recline had amiably volunteered to be the test subject. He was an unarmed pacifist with the flimsiest of armor covering the metalogel layer that shaped his berthform, and his special ability was unlikely to cause damage to the base if things ran amuck. Not to mention that Wheeljack was just so endearing when he was excited about a new invention, even if it meant he was not recharging properly, which caused Recline no small amount of concern for his friend.

And that was how they had ended up in the predicament they were now in.

"Can you transform and expel me?" Wheeljack's muffled voice asked from deep within Recline's charging platform that had become supercharged on a super plush setting and had quickly enveloped the engineer.

Recline tried to initiate the sequence, only to have a cascade of error messages vie for his attention.

"I'm afraid not, Wheeljack."

"My, my, this was not a result I foresaw, Recline," Wheeljack said, his field awash with the curiosity of discovery rather than fear. "But it is a fascinating result nonetheless. Considering that in this state I have no mobility whatsoever and am completely at your mercy, this could potentially serve as a defensive mechanism for you should the Decepticons ever make it past our perimeter."

"If I can convince armed ruffians to lie down on me, I'm sure it could," Recline replied warmly, squeezing Wheeljack a bit tighter in gratitude for his concern. All of his fellow Autobots, it seemed, were even more worried about the pacifist's lack of weapons and armor now that he was on Earth in a far more vulnerable base than deep beneath Iacon's dome where his office had been prior to the Ark's launch.

Wheeljack laughed, even as a surge in the engineer's field told Recline exactly how much he was enjoying the squeezing. The berthformer did so again, undulating the soft surface that surrounded his friend, pushing it even deeper into the gaps between Wheeljack's armor, tendrils of the soft, mesh-covered gel stroking the conduits beneath. His prehensile cables wrapped his trapped friend's sensitive joints with affectionate caresses.

"I-if anyone could convince a Decepticon to come to bed, I'm sure it would be you, Recline." Wheeljack's vocalizer hitched with static as he spoke, his systems heating fast...

...which was a problem, Recline realized quickly, as Wheeljack's vents were completely enveloped.

The berthformer did not wish to stop lavishing the engineer with his attentions, but his priority was always the health of his patients. He quickly ran a diagnosis of his systems to examine his options. While he could not transform out of his berthmode under the influence of the supercharged nanites, it did seem like he could adjust some of his settings. "Wheeljack, I can connect my own cooling system to yours. It isn't that different than when I take over cooling functions while my clients are in level 4 recharge. But I'm going to need to remove portions of your armor to keep you cool enough."

He could feel Wheeljack's laughter sending pleasant vibrations though the gel and into Recline's own barely armored and highly keyed systems. "So it isn't enough for you to have me all tied up, now you want to get me naked, too?" Wheeljack's muffled voice asked.

"I think you are spending too much time with the humans," Recline teased gently, unable to stop himself from squeezing the engineer again affectionately, only to quickly stop when Wheeljack's core temperature jumped again by several degrees.

"Whatever you are going to do, you'd better do it quickly, my friend," Wheeljack said, his vocalizer hissing with static. "My circuits are going to start melting."

Recline concurred via a quick caress of his field before plugging himself in to the easily accessible ports. Wheeljack's firewalls fell smoothly, giving access to the relevant systems; trust was long established between the two after countless post-working-to-stasis sessions under Recline's care. The berthformer adjusted Wheeljack's sensor feed, then swiftly shaped a portion of the his now super-malleable charging platform to form fingerlings that were able to pry off the relevant sections of armor before using more undulating movements to push them aside. He cooled the gel of the fingerlings and then sent them deeper into Wheeljack's core to directly chill the most overheated systems. Wheeljack shivered and bucked with pleasure as those fingerlings wound deeper into his internals.

"You like that?" Recline asked, slightly smug as Wheeljack's vocalizer shorted out in his attempt to respond. The feedback through their now connected systems and Wheeljack's ever-expressive field were enough to answer that question.

Recline then formed a series of venting-clefts in various places around the engineer's enveloped frame, his own vents drawing in, then expelling the cool nitrogen while filtering out the more combustible gasses. Wheeljack moaned in relief as his systems cooled, even as his charge continued to build in response to the stroking of the sensuous fingerlings still chilling him deep within.

Why he couldn't use the same malleability to simply release the engineer, the berthformer was not certain, though Recline suspected it had something to do with the manner in which his core function protocols coded his nanites to make him so highly suitable for tactile contact. The humans they had befriended termed it 'snuggling', and Recline was sure his supercharged snuggling (mal)function was likely to be the source of many jokes in the cycles to come. He did not mind. Laughter was even more effective than magnesium when it came to soothing anxiety-laden sparks.

"Feeling better?" he asked. Wheeljack trilled within him. "I'll take that as a yes. I think you are cool enough that we can risk an overload. That is, if you want me to start squeezing you again."

The muffled answer was something like "oh Primus at a potluck, frag yes", along with some frantic glyphs that all came to down to Wheeljack begging.

Recline trilled in delight as his charging pad began to undulate and squeeze, fingerings prying a few more key plates of armor off the mech held completely in his care. It did not take long to bring them both to an exquisite release that also happened to return Recline's supercharged nanites to their normal state.

He began to release his friend, only to stop as Wheeljack whined in protest.

"Do you think we could stay like this for a rest cycle?" Wheeljack asked a bit sheepishly, his vocalizer still muffled inside the plush platform.

"Of course, Wheeljack," Recline replied warmly, squeezing himself tightly around his friend who was safe and sound in his care.


	4. Misfit Toys

**Title:** Misfit Toys  
**Fandom:** G1  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters/Relationships:** Mirage/OC Recline (hinted), OC/OC (Recline/Synergy)  
**Content:** Tactile and PnP intimacy, references slavery

**Notes:** More Recline the Berthformer. The first part of this (up to the first section break) was written within the time allowance for tf_speedwriting prompt _lovers against adversity. Two (or more) characters who pursue a relationship despite the fact they're really not meant to._ More angst and less berthy fluff this time. Credit to Fractalserpent for the comment on Ao3 that inspired the title and to sphinx01 for suggesting a chapter with Mirage.

_For the purpose of this fic, the following definitions are used:_  
_Mechling - _A fully upgraded mech who is still in training and has not yet taken on the full responsibilities and privileges of their function.  
_Clade - _A group of cohorts that are related in some manner (i.e. a common coding lineage, a set of alliances or a shared hierarchy. Among the alphamechs, they functioned somewhat as a cartel, with powerful members strictly governing the cohorts within them).  
_Cohort - _A small family-like grouping of mechs that serve a common purpose.

* * *

Mirage arrived back at Iridium Tower far earlier than had been planned, irritably wiping the soot and other particulates off his finish in the crystaline vestibule before snapping at the door guardian to clean up the mess. The heavily armored servant scrambled to do so, not even waiting for Iridium to dispatch a cleaning drone as Mirage swept into the express lift to his clade's levels.

The mechling was furious. The market opening where he was to have represented his clade had been postponed due to civil unrest just two levels below the merchant district. Word of that, however, had never reached him. After a haughty exchange via comms with the merchant cohort his clade had entrusted with the market, Mirage had determined that the message had been accidentally routed to the second of the two mechlings who inhabited his cohort's suite. Synergy, out of jealousy, spite, or sheer neglect, had chosen not to relay word to his co-creation.

Because of that, Mirage had made a fool of himself, showing up diligently early for the opening in order to inspect the preparations. It was to be his first outing as an official representative of his clade's substantial power. Instead, he was firmly turned away by the enforcers who berated him for venturing into a volatile area. They had insisted on sending three of their company to escort him back to a more secure district, and had threatened to report him to his clade for failure to travel without the appropriate guardian servant. Never mind that Mirage's pattern disruptor was far better security than anything a slow-processing guardian mech or bulky enforcer could provide.

Mirage was seething as the door slid shut behind him to his cohort's suite (part of the clade compound respectably midway up Iridium). Certainly news would filter back to his own clade and their neighbor/rivals that Mirage had shown up in a merchant district in the middle of a riot. It would be an embarrassment, and it would be some time before he would be given official clade duties again.

He scanned the suite in search of Synergy, duly noting the absence of the servants, but putting little thought to it. The elder members of his cohort were off-world on a tour of a colony his clade had funded, and the servants had likely used Mirage's planned absence as an opportunity to visit staff of neighboring suites or care for their own affairs. Later, Mirage would ascertain who had done so improperly and deal with them accordingly. For now, his chief concern was locating Synergy. As the first-sparked among the cohort's two junior members, it was his responsibility to discipline Synergy for his oversight in the face of the elder members' absence.

Just outside Synergy's quarters, Mirage froze. There were audible, static-filled moans coming from within. Mirage was not unaccustomed to such noises. Mechlings like himself and Synergy were tutored in such practices by pleasure servants in preparation for formally bonding with their own or another cohort, or founding a new one. Such a session would never take place without one of the cohort elders present, though. Casual liaisons among Iridium mechs were permitted only after formal cohort bonding had taken place.

Yet, there was every indication of one such casual liaison happening in Synergy's quarters, and judging by the sounds, whoever was involved would not even notice if Mirage stepped through the door. The mechling did not wish to take any chance on that, though. He signaled for a cleaning drone to enter first, activating his pattern disrupter before following it, only to forcibly cut off a hiss at what met his sensors within.

Synergy was engaged in passionate interfacing, vents wide, cables deep, and hands everywhere – all from beneath his cohort's berthformer (a prized mechling servant, relatively new, whose code-donor and mentor had been given to their clade by Sentinel himself as a sign of the Prime's favor). The servant's long, flexible arms and cables wrapped the smaller alphamech who lay stretched beneath him on the unsparked berth. The long-limbed mech captured Synergy's mouth in a circuit-melting kiss even as several of his prehensile charging cables sparked as they delved into the armor gaps to the protoform beneath. It was a shock for Mirage to even see the berthformer in his mech mode, much less making love to his co-creation. The rules by which that class functioned were strict and certain. Only during off-duty cycles and only among other servants did berthformers transform to root mode. They most certainly were not ever supposed to be _on top_ of the alphamechs they recharged.

Not that Synergy was doing anything approaching recharge while he moaned, clung to, and slid against the servant atop him, plasma now dancing across their plating. Mirage knew he should stop them, should send for the guardians to expel the berthformer from their suite and Iridium tower itself. Yet he could only watch, mesmerized by the way the berthformer, even in his mech mode, so thoroughly held and surrounded Synergy, practically melding himself to the mech beneath him as their fields flared wide in an overload that took Mirage to his knees with a moan of his own.

Not that either of the two lovers were in any condition to hear him.

There could be no question about what they were. This was no casual liaison. While the berthformer's meshy armor could easily match another's shape, Synergy's could not, and yet had formed its own connections like an intricate puzzle with the servant's in a manner that only took place between long trusted lovers and cohortmates. Mirage was stunned by the difference between the intimacy he had just witnessed and what he had been exposed to in his own tutoring sessions. By comparison, the latter was cold and sterile, only the motions of what he had just seen.

"Merge with me," Synergy begged as he and the berthformer stirred from their post-overload shut down.

"You know I can't do that, Syn. I want to, more than anything, but if we are ever caught that would mean my deactivation."

"Then let's leave! Go start somewhere new where we can bond and be cohort. I can access some funds, get us to a colony world where lineage isn't as important."

"Syn..." the berthformer had to reset his vocalizer, dipping in for a gentle kiss on Synergy's forehelm while he did so. "You don't know what you are saying. You've never been without full maintenance, never had to do a grueling shift on a half ration of low grade so depleted it hardly deserves to be called energon. We both have it _good_ here. Neither of us are equipped for life out there. Besides, you were built to remain in the cohort that owns me. Mirage is the one being groomed to found a new one. You'll _always_ have me."

"Not the way I want to," Synergy murmured into the berthformer's neck cabling.

"Someday, you'll be an elder in this clade, and you can do anything you want. I can wait, Synergy. You have me no matter what... did you hear something?"

"Just a cleaning drone," Synergy murmured as Mirage left his co-creation's quarters.

* * *

"You are avoiding me," Recline said with gentle firmness to the former alphamech. It had taken the berthformer six full decaorns to corner the spy in the Iacon base.

"I do not wish to engage your services," Mirage said stiffly.

"I'm not offering them. But we still should talk about it, at least," the berthformer replied.

"What is there to talk about?" Mirage hissed, grabbing Recline's arm and pulling him back into the now empty conference room for privacy from the others who were surreptitiously watching them. "You have every reason to despise me. I lost you your position, had you shamed and turned out."

"You thought it was your duty. The cohort left you in charge and responsible. And, you saved my life. I would have been there when Iridium fell. I never would have willingly left Synergy or the cohort I was coded to serve."

"I should have warned him I knew," Mirage's vocalizer crackled with emotion. "I should have protected you both, or helped you escape together like Synergy wanted."

Recline gave Mirage a searching look, then seemed to sink into his own armor. "Mirage," he began softly, "I missed Synergy deeply, for a very long time. He was the first lover I ever had who wanted me as a mech rather than a berth. But he also lived by the power of his own choices. Had he truly wished to, he could have followed me, found me. He didn't," Recline said with calm acceptance. "I come to know mechs profoundly well when they recharge on me regularly, and I knew even then that Synergy would not have left. He had at least four different lovers among the clade staff, and talked to all of them about bonding or escaping or both."

"He was using you," Mirage said, his optics cycling with the realization.

"I was never bothered by it. I'm not coded for exclusivity. Taking servants as lovers was Syn's way of escaping what he did not have the courage to truly leave. I loved him enough to understand that."

"You are too understanding. Too forgiving. This war will consume you," Mirage said bitterly, drawing away from the field that was so openly inviting his own.

"There is little point to holding on to pain, Mirage. If there is anything I have learned, it is to live in the present, and not haunted by past hurt or hung up on future plans. Good can come from even the worst circumstances by the choices we make. I may have left Iridium shamed, but I was no longer a slave. For the first time I made my own way, my own choices."

Mirage silently stared at his cohort's former servant... no, slave, he corrected himself. The glyph Recline had used was accurate, even if it was never said in the towers.

"What did you do," he finally asked quietly, "after you were expelled? I will confess I never even wondered until now."

"It was bad for awhile," Recline admitted, the briefest haunted look crossing his expression. "Very bad. A dismissal from Iridium follows a mech. I couldn't even find work in a pleasure house, and as mechs here point out so frequently, my defenses are laughable. I was fortunate, though," he added quickly before Mirage could interject with self-recrimination. "My code-lineage goes back to those of my frametype that were medic-class rather than pleasure-class. I eventually found my way to a medic instructor at the Academy who was code-kin, a recharge and spark disorder specialist. He was able to purge my record and call in some favors. I became his assistant of sorts. I couldn't train to be a full medic without a major reformat, and I considered that, but, I was sparked for the right function. I love what I am, and do not wish to change that. My kind were not always simply toys for the alphamechs."

Mirage flinched. "I'm sorry, Recline. For so many things."

Recline flared his field slightly, just enough to show Mirage that he was not angry. "Mirage, none of us are responsible for where we happened to be sparked, what we were created as, only for the choices we make afterwards within the parameters and limitations of our own coding. You did as you were coded and trained to believe was right, and had no functioning experience to tell you otherwise. As I said, I wouldn't be here to have this conversation with you if you hadn't expelled me." Recline paused for a moment, drew in a deep vent before flaring his field wider, sharing more openly the true extent of his feelings. "You are welcome to visit my office, any time Mirage. It would... bring me contentment to fulfill my function with one of the mechs I was sparked and coded to do so with, as a free mech rather than a slave. I can tell by your field that recharge is not easy for you. I will never stop caring for your clade, and you are the last of them."

"You still have loyalty coding," Mirage said, putting the pieces together. "I can release you from that."

Recline's mesh armor flared in rarely displayed agitation. "Visit my office, and then let me decide," he said quietly, turning and quickly leaving the conference room.


	5. Haven

**Title:** Haven  
**Fandom:** G1 (post TFTM)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters and Relationships:** First Aid, Rodimus Prime/OC (Recline the Berthformer)  
**Summary:** _"Good Prime," First Aid reached over and squeezed Rodimus's hand. "Remember, that walking, talking bed has kept more mechs relatively sane and functioning since war broke out than you'd ever imagine. But I'm not just sending you to him for your benefit. He needs you, too."_  
**Content:** References to canon character deaths (TFTM related), possible misuse of high grade (potentially laced with other substances), fade to black BDSM.  
**Notes:** The second and third section of this was written for the tf_speedwriting prompt _Inebriated. Let's have some tipsy fumbling_. This was one of those situations where the characters took a prompt in a completely different direction than I had planned. It turns out Recline is a weepy drunk. Sorry if this installment ends a bit abruptly. Was trying to finish within the time limit.

* * *

"You need to go see Recline," the CMO said in a tone Rodimus had quickly learned not to argue with. A disappointed First Aid was a far worse prospect than an infuriated Ratchet had ever been.

But something about this particular "suggestion" made the new Prime bristle.

"I don't need to go see a walking, talking bed about my recharge issues," he snapped, more irritably than he'd intended to. But it wasn't because of those recharge issues. Really. It wasn't.

And then it came: the disappointed, wounded look. Before First Aid could even begin, Rodimus was capitulating. "All right, all right, I'll go see him. First thing, as soon as the shift is over... ok I mean right now, I'll go see him right and now would you stop looking at me like that!"

"Good Prime," First Aid reached over and squeezed Rodimus's hand. "Remember, that walking, talking bed has kept more mechs relatively sane and functioning since war broke out than you'd imagine. But I'm not just sending you to him for your benefit. He needs you, too."

"What could he possibly need me for? He's never even met me."

"You have the wisdom of the Primes. I'm sure you'll figure it out," First Aid said sweetly as he got back to his pedes from the berth he'd been sitting next to Rodimus on for their weekly "chat". "Now get out of here. I have work to do. And you don't. Not until you've seen our recharge specialist."

"You know, I think I liked you better when you weren't so bossy," Rodimus mumbled as he left, pinging Metroplex for Recline's location.

* * *

Recline was an odd looking mech by any standard, Rodimus mused. His armor wasn't truly armor at all, and the metalogel that he used to adjust his shape gave him a distinctly smooth, non-angular appearance. Rodimus had been sparked in a generation that had not been exposed to many of the frametypes unsuited to war. They had all either extinguished, fled, or reformatted. Recline was a throwback to another era.

Odd looking did not mean he wasn't hot, though. And the more highgrade Rodimus consumed, the more he noticed those smooth lines and the sensuous way the berthformer moved.

"So... um... have you always been a bed?" Rodimus mentally kicked himself as the words somehow fumbled past his vocalizer. Recline was, oddly enough, lounging on his own berth, enjoying his own cube of high grade. Heh, a berth on a berth. The berth on the berth grinned and gave a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Since I was a newspark," Recline said cheerily, "and no, I didn't start off as a cradle. Ambassador Witwicky asked me that when he was a kid. Want another cube?"

Hell yeah, Rodimus thought, holding his out for a refill. The first two had gone down so smooth. What was it the bed said he'd enriched it with again? Earth "medicinal" plant and mineral essences infused in some sort of plant-based alcohol that Rodimus wasn't at all certain his filters were equipped to handle, but First Aid had sent him here, so First Aid could deal with the mess.

"Why are you getting me overcharged again?" Rodimus suddenly asked as seriously as he could with the way his circuits were buzzing and tingling, making him feel like he could just say anything at all. "Is this what you do with all your... your..."

"Snuggle buddies?" Recline supplied helpfully, giggling, his words becoming slightly slurred with static as he threw back another cube. Was that his fourth? "No, just the ones who need it. And you, my Prime, need to get aft-shhhh-slapping drunk. And then overload hard, ssss-several times. And then shhh-sleeep. On me. Until I shhhh-say you are done."

"Whoa, Bed, easy now, you are really getting overcharged," Rodimus suddenly felt a bit more sober, even if his optics were focusing at different speeds and there were two sentient beds lounging on the berth instead of one. Mmm, a Recline sandwich.

"I am?" Recline said, sounding innocently confused. "I'm shhh-such a lightweight."

"Well hold off there, I don't think you should have any more of that," Rodimus said, finishing off his own cube and moving from his chair to the berth where Recline was close to capsizing. He settled himself next the overcharged mech, and threw an arm around the listing bed to hold him upright. Recline's field immediately meshed with his own in a blatantly inviting way.

"You want to tell me why you are getting overcharged?" Rodimus asked, kneading Recline's shoulder, enjoying a bit too much how good the give to the berthformer's meshy plating felt under his hand, not to mention the thrumming field.

"You think there's a reason?" Recline said, his voice trembling a little.

"Wisdom of the Primes and all that slag," Rodimus said, pointing his free hand at his chest.

"Just didn't want you to have to get overcharged alone," Recline lied, his field suddenly awash with nervousness as he looked anywhere but at his Prime.

"Try again," Rodimus said, sobering up even more as concern began to replace the tingles running through his neural net.

Recline looked suddenly ready to flee, tensing and trying to rein in his field. "I'm fragging this all up. This isn't the way it is supposed to be," he admitted, grief spilling out into his field so suddenly that it was like a damn bursting.

"Hey now, there isn't any _supposed to_," Rodimus said, gathering the mech into his arms, suddenly glad he could hold so much high grade. "Tell me what's going on."

"I'm supposed to be at peace, to be a haven of harmony for anyone who needs me." Recline buried his face against Rodimus's chest. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

Rodimus began stroking the berthformer's back, quickly accessing a few of Optimus's memories of time spent with Recline for guidance. Like most Matrix memories, at least those that could be accessed without deeper meditation, these were more emotion-filled glimpses than detailed data files. The impressions that fed from the Matrix into his spark were just as Recline described - a haven, peace, the feeling of being completely cared for without any pretenses. There was also an immense affection and protectiveness of something precious and almost completely lost from their kind.

Most of the more recent arrivals on Earth, including Rodimus, had privately questioned the presence of the berthformer and why a relatively "useless and defenseless" mech was so easily accepted among the ranks of the Ark-based crew. The impressions helped Rodimus understand, but gave no guidance as to what to do now.

"You don't have to be peaceful for me, Recline," Rodimus murmured to the obviously hurting mech.

"Yes, I do!" Recline wailed. "You don't understand. Peace, harmony, a haven is _what I am_. I've _always_ been able to perform my function. Most of my processing power goes to remaining balanced and at peace so I can be that for those I recharge. It's why berthformers can't support additional alt forms, weapons, or even extra shielding. Everything we are is dedicated to being a haven."

"But Recline," Rodimus chided, holding the mech as he began to shake. "You're a mech. You have a spark. You hurt sometimes. No one is balanced and peaceful all the time. You aren't the only one who is off kilter right now. We _all_ are."

"I'm supposed to help put you all back together," the severely overcharged berthformer cried. "That's my function, and I just can't. I can't any more. I lost too many... too many..."

"Too many of the people you cared for," Rodimus said quietly, holding the mech even tighter.

"Too many whose fears and fluxes I knew, whose hopes I grew, whose secret desires I guarded and made true," Recline answered, his words switching to a more archaic form of Cybertronian, spoken almost like a creed.

"Recline," Rodimus murmured, "you have to give yourself time to grieve. You don't owe me or anyone else anything right now. Give yourself some time, mech. That's an order from your Prime."

"This army has fueled me and kept me safe for so many vorns, and the time when mechs need me the most, because they are hurting the most, I can't be their berth and harbor," Recline whispered. "Do you realize how much I'm needed right now? How poorly everyone is recharging? I can hear Bluestreak fluxing during his rest shifts. Jazz is barely a shadow of himself. The Aerialbots, Protectobots and Dinobots all lost their creators and mentors and they are hardly even mechlings yet."

"They will survive this, Recline. They just need a chance to grieve, just like you do," Rodimus murmured, but Recline went on as if he hadn't heard.

"And our Prime is plagued with doubt, can't recharge, and fears journeying into the Matrix because he believes it will reject him, yet he hopes that is exactly what will happen. You need me to help you find your balance, my Prime, and it is what I'm meant to do, but I can't."

"And you thought getting extremely overcharged would help you?" Rodimus asked gently, almost completely sober now.

Recline nodded into his chest. "I thought it couldn't hurt."

Rodimus shifted, pushing Recline slightly away so the berthformer had to meet his optics.

"How 'bout we try something different," Rodimus suggested, putting a hand beneath Recline's chin when he tried to look away. "Why don't you pretend I'm the berthformer tonight, and tell me about all those fears and fluxes and hopes and secret desires business."

Recline stared at him, his vocalizer resetting itself several times. He reached for the highgrade carafe, but Rodimus captured his wrist and brought it back. "Tell me, Recline," he said, putting the authority of an order from the Prime in his tone.

And so Recline did, and Rodimus felt his core heating in all the right ways as he realized, yet again, just how fragging brilliant First Aid truly was.

* * *

Rodimus trilled in contentment from where he was over arm tied, flat on his front, his face mashed into the mesh-covered metalogel with several of Recline's cables strapping him tightly to the charging platform for good measure. He gave a little hiss as the cables that had so recently delivered such sweet pain began soothing away the scorch marks, moaning again as his wrists and pedes were released just enough to allow energon flow to return.

"That was amazing," he murmured, kissing the mesh pressed against his face. The ozone scent of his overload was sharp on his sensors, and Recline's charge was still buzzing beneath him. Recline squeezed him before fully releasing him from the bonds. He used his cables to assist his Prime in rolling over, tapping Rodimus's primary interface port with another cable, which obediently spiraled open for him.

"Now touch yourself. Bring yourself to another overload. And I want to feel you moving. A lot," Recline ordered, his field washing through his Prime's with gratitude and contentment. They both would recharge well that cycle.

* * *

_Thank you so much for the wonderful favorites, subscriptions, and comments! You all have been making my week by enjoying and loving Recline since he took up residence in my head. It feels so good to be enjoying writing again after a dry spell and busy couple of months. This is the final speedwriting prompt for this week, but I don't think I'm done with Recline yet, so feel free to give me ideas!_


	6. Amulets

**Title:** Amulets  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Fandom:** G1 **Characters & Relationships:** Jazz/Prowl, implied Jazz/Recline and Prowl/Recline  
**Summary:** "Didn't think ya'd be one t' put much stock in all that crystal field balancing mumbo jumbo," he teased quietly.  
**Content:** Tactile intimacy, kissing, post-spark merge.  
**Notes:** Recline the Berthformer ficlet written for TF_speedwriting Prompt #4 _2011 Master Prompt List_ (I chose #4 from April 2, 2011, _wish_)

* * *

Jazz had been too caught up in the moment to say anything when his lover opened his plates to him for the first time. There had been far more brilliant and mesmerizing things to focus on than the delicate arrangement of crystals affixed just next to Prowl's spark chamber. It was only after, when their now resonating fields were slowly washing through one another like the waves of the Silver Sea that Jazz gently touched the small amulet.

"Didn't think ya'd be one t' put much stock in all that crystal field balancing mumbo jumbo," he teased quietly.

Prowl's hand cupped the amulet next to Jazz's own chamber in turn, his thumb caressing the very different shape from the combination of lepidolite and quartzes that rested next to his own. A ghost of a smile played on his smooth metal lips. "I saw no harm in it, and it pleased Recline to make one for me," Prowl explained, as if that settled the matter.

"That so?" Jazz asked before leaning forward to memorize the shape of that hinted smile with his own lips.

"And yours? Why do you have one?" Prowl asked after they had broken their lazy kiss.

Jazz cupped his free hand over Prowl's briefly to feel the tingle from the amulet travel along his arm sensors. "Wouldn't go on a mission without it," he explained.

"What if a Decepticon sees it? Wouldn't that raise questions?" Prowl asked, his battle computer spilling out probabilities for just such a scenario happening when Jazz left on his mission the following orn.

"It's balanced t' connect in two different locations, depending on the state of my field at the time," Jazz explained in a matter-of-fact tone, his fingers caressing the hand that was cupping his amulet. "I affix it behind my spark, directly t' the chamber itself on missions. If anyone ever gets that far..." He did not need to voice the remainder of the statement.

Prowl gently moved aside his cupped hand, his optics focusing in on the combination of amethyst, black tourmaline, and black obsidian, noting the prayer-glyphs engraved upon their bases and the metals that melded them together.

_Bring him back to me,_ his spark silently called out to the tiny crystals. After all, there was no harm in that, either.


	7. Paths

**Title:** Paths  
**Rating:** PG  
**Fandom:** G1  
**Characters & Relationships:** OC Recline, OC Repose, brief glimpse of Sentinel Prime, OC Medic Torque, and an unknown engineer who might just be Alpha Trion  
**Summary:** "We do not always have the luxury to live according to the ideals of our ancient code kin, Recline," Repose explained.  
**Content:** justification of slavery, description of Vector Sigma-based onlining of a new mech

**Notes:** Recline the Berthformer story, written for TF_speedwriting Prompt #1 _Pick a character and tell us a story from that character's life before the war._

_For the purpose of this fic, the following definitions are used_  
Mechling: A fully upgraded mech who is still in training and has not yet taken on the full responsibilities and privileges of their function.  
Clade: A group of cohorts that are related in some manner (i.e., a common coding lineage, a set of alliances or a shared hierarchy. Among the alphamechs, they functioned like a cartel, with the most powerful members strictly governing the cohorts within them).  
Cohort: A small family-like grouping of mechs that serve a common purpose.

Apologies for the multiple notifications. Fanfiction dot net was being glitchy this evening :)

* * *

Before his optics booted, he was aware of the fields around him. State of the art sensors supported by complex coding read the patterns within those fields in a manner that seemed to bypass his processors entirely and go straight to his spark. His spark, in turn, adjusted its spin and vibrations so his field could join in those patterns and weave them into something peaceful and whole.

Of course, he did not understand that until later. He only knew, from the moment he onlined, that disharmony surrounded him, and his spark surged with the need to harmonize that discord.

When his optics did online, he sat up, and then stood, wrapping his arms first around the attending medic, and then the engineer, holding their hard angles to his softer self. He scanned them on coded instinct, the nanites of his metalogel shifting it to conform to their shapes. To be close, to touch, and to mold himself felt right. He missed the amused expression that the medic and engineer shared as he took a step toward the one to whom his files supplied the title of Prime. That large mech was briskly inserting some device into a shining orb and then connecting himself to the orb with a data cable, while another data cable was plugged to the grey mech on the next berth. Vector Sigma, the mechling's date files supplied when he queried them about that potent energy source that was so different from the other living energies in the room.

Before he could move any closer, a mech whose field was so calm he had not even sensed it gently grasped his shoulder.

"Do you have a designation, berthformer?" the calm mech asked.

The question led to thoughts of shifting downward and outward, molding into something wide and embracing.

"Recline," he said brightly in recognition as the glyph flashed through his processors.

"Return to your berth, Recline, so Torque can complete your examination."

"Okay," Recline said in an agreeable tone. But before he complied, he wrapped his arms around the mech whom his files identified as his mentor and code-donor, letting the cool stillness of that field settle the questing, weaving warmth of his own. "Your field feels nice," he explained.

"It is my function," Repose noted, "and yours as well. I will teach how to best make use of your coding, frame and spark."

"That's good. I like that idea!" Recline pronounced as he sat and then laid on the medical berth. He smiled brightly at the smooth, near emotionless features of the other berthformer, letting the eddies of his field dance in the still waters of his mentor's.

* * *

"There are two paths to maintaining the balance and harmony of your own spark so you can bring peace, at least momentarily, to others," Repose explained after they had begun their orn with their centering meditations.

Recline listened attentively, basking in the field he had known since coming online a decaorn earlier, a pool of calm that matched the elegant simplicity of the berthroom where Repose served. The mechling could not seem to stop himself from weaving patterns within that field with the tendrils of his own, like warm eddies within the refreshing coolness of the solvent bath.

"The first is the path of complete detachment from all emotional connections, even from ones own spark," Repose continued. "Upon this path, we form no bonds with those we recharge, that we may be a conduit of untainted peace from the Spark that is All Sparks. Recognizing the oneness that unites us all, there is no need to be attached to any we serve, for all are one and one are all. Complete detachment is the simplest and most sustaining path by which we maintain our harmony."

Recline flared his ever-changing field affectionately, thankful for the wisdom his mentor was giving him that went so much deeper than the mechling's core code and function files.

"Then there is the second path," Repose explained, his field giving no response to Recline's affection. "It is the path of deep attachment. Rather than forming no bonds, a spark codes a bond with every resonance field it serves, following the natural instincts of that bond to serve the spark in ones care. Rather than a conduit, one is vessel, shaped by those bonds to become the harmony others need the most."

"Oh! I like that!" Recline said, his field flaring with warmth into that cool pool again.

Repose nodded with serene understanding. "I cannot help you understand that path, Recline. It is a choice of the spark rather than coding, and is one you will need to discover on your own. It is a path with a far greater potential for suffering than the one which harmonizes my own spark."

Recline cocked his helm and observed the fellow berthformer, searching for any sign of disappointment in his field or expression. There was none, of course, because Repose had not attachments to any outcome or to Recline himself. He was beautiful in that way, and Recline could not help but to love him.

* * *

"You are distracted today, Recline. Your field is unsettled," Repose said halfway through their centering exercise.

"I am processing and integrating the Iridium Tower rules you instructed me to download before recharge," Recline answered. "I am prohibited from transforming into my root mode in the presence of my sponsors, but also must follow any command that is given to me unless it would do harm that I am not able to repair using my medical coding. But what if what if a sponsor needs the most is not a berth? Or what if a sponsor I serve orders that I transform?"

"In the former case," Repose explained, "there is nothing that you can give them as a mech that you cannot also give them as a berth, and seeing you as a mech detracts from your function. You will interface with our sponsors, but, doing so as a berth maintains the appropriate decorum and distance. As to the latter, such an occurrence has not taken place in all the vorns I have served in Iridium. In the unlikely event that it should, you would obey the sponsor you are recharging at that time, then follow the dictates of the senior-most member of the cohort. When the clade gifts you to a cohort, you will download a file of cohort-specific rules regarding the circumstances when a servant must report the activities of junior members to those who are senior. However, I do not anticipate that such a situation will arise. Now begin your centering again, from the first exercise."

"Yes mentor," Recline answered, envisioning the archaic glyphs of the oath the first berthformer, Recharge, gave to his Prime. However, questions kept distracting him from mentally tracing the complex patterns.

"Mentor," he asked quietly, "Recharge voluntarily placed himself in Prime Nova's service. If freedom is the right of all sentient beings as the Canticle of Primus says, why were the terms of my service coded even prior to my coming online?"

Repose onlined his optics from his own meditations, not a trace of irritation apparent in his field at the interruption. "Recline, examine your data modules on the history of the growing shortage of energon and the limits that have been placed by the Senate on the continuation of unessential, unsustainable, and inefficient frame classes. Berthformers are classified as a type 4-E unessential frame type, and therefore are not eligible for Senate creation subsidies or energon rations, and only eligible for sparks from Vector Sigma with sponsoring fiscal agents. Our class is considered a luxury item. We would not have the means of supporting ourselves beyond towers society, and only by having a sponsor can our code-line continue."

Recline did as his mentor instructed, following the history of the first energon riots to the Senate's most recent actions to ensure enough resources for the majority of Cybertron's frame classes. He was shocked at the level of discord beyond the haven of the sparked tower where his sponsoring clade dwelt. Riots and even insurrection were becoming common in all of the city states, and not just those largely inhabited by the frame classes the Senate had restricted the most severely. Considering the vulnerability of his frame configuration and the complete accessibility of his systems, the world beyond Iridium would be a dangerous place indeed.

"We do not always have the luxury to live according to the ideals of our ancient code kin, Recline," Repose explained after a moment. "But aside from that, it is also the tradition of our code lineage to serve our Prime. When Recharge became a medic-consort to Nova, he voluntarily accepted loyalty coding to the Prime lineage, and each of us has carried that coding in honor of our lineage originator. Sentinel felt it fitting that I enter into the service of this clade. Who are we to question the will of the Prime in these matters, especially when it allows our lineage the resources by which it might continue and a means by which to fulfill our function?"

"But there are so many who are in far greater need of us," Recline said sadly, the images of suffering in the newsfeeds still scrolling across his HUD.

"Clade Iridium Kappa is very powerful and influential, Recline. We are fortunate to have such sponsors. The balance and harmony we bring to them will impact their dealings with the rest of Cybertron, and benefit all. Now begin your exercises again, and this time, no questions until you have found your peaceful center."

"Yes mentor," Recline said, shutting down the newsfeed and returning his attention to his originator's ancient vow before his Prime.


	8. Colic

**Title:** Colic  
**Rating:** PG  
**Fandom:** G1  
**Characters & Relationships:** First Aid/Recline (snuggling and flirting), Carly/Recline (snuggling), Daniel (he gets snuggled, too)  
**Summary:** "I don't know whether to love you or hate your right now," Carly admitted, giving a slightly hysterical laugh. "Do you know how many times I've tried to get him to take a pacifier? And he doesn't stop crying for anyone, except First Aid. Not me, not Spike, not any of the mechs who've tried."  
**Content:** Total, unrepentant fluff, flirtation, xeno snuggling, minor reference to potential future xeno intimacy, mentions of mother having violent thoughts toward her offspring due to colic and unrelenting sleep deprivation. Possibly squicky description of infant using the tip of an uncharged tentacle-like cable as a pacifier (warning just to be safe).

**Notes:** I am totally indebted to Playswithworms and Ultharkitty for head canon and characterizations of First Aid.

* * *

Daniel Witwicky had finally been released from First Aid's constant care exactly a month before what should have been his due date, now weighing a hearty six pounds thirteen ounces and nine inches longer than when he had made his dramatic and outrageously early appearance at 21 weeks. (Spike and Carly had both seen enough over the years not to argue when Blades had landed at Sherman County General in place of the EMS helicopter that was to have transported the barely living newborn to OSHU's NICU in Portland). Hoist and Ratchet had assisted in the monitoring, of course, but both were the first to admit that when it came to having the coding and skills for biological maintenance, First Aid was the "go to" mech.

If technology outside of the United Nations-Autobot treaty had been used on (and in) the Witwicky baby to allow for his survival and development, no one was saying a word. The only mech who would have protested had taken one look at the 10 inch infant floating in the womb-like incubator (designed and built as a backup as soon as the conception had been detected), twitched his sensor panels several times, then had commended First Aid for his work and asked if there were any supply requisitions he should move to the top of the queue.

With Daniel now healthy and developing normally, attention had returned to other matters, namely the completion of Autobot City as a foundation for Metroplex to subsume. But First Aid had been keeping several sensors on the human family in addition to the regular checkups. After Spike had been called back to DC for several weeks, the medic had spoken with Recline, asking him to pay Carly and baby Daniel a visit.

To say that Recline's smile and field had lit up all of Medical would not be an exaggeration.

"I've never had the opportunity to recharge humans before," Recline said when he finally loosened his embrace of the medic a tiny bit. "Anything I should know?"

"You've got the files to keep them safe. Fairly firm surface for Danny, by human measures, though you'll be monitoring his breathing, so I have no concerns about SIDS. Other than that, just follow your spark, Recline. It hasn't steered you wrong," First Aid nuzzled the taller mech's chest.

"So when do I get _you_ for an offshift?" Recline asked, not ready to let go and lose the medic's shape along his torso quite yet. His field washed through the comforting, familiar one of his friend, automatically smoothing out the frazzled edges.

"I recharge pretty well with my brothers," First Aid said wistfully, squeezing him a bit tighter in gratitude for the offer. "I don't want to take up time when others might need you."

"Who says I want you to recharge?" Recline gave the medic and extra firm squeeze.

First Aid laughed brightly. "You can't tell me it wouldn't end that way, snugglesnakes," he teased, deliberately using the nickname Spike had given Recline shortly after seeing his charging cables for the first time.

"Well, yes, and your point is?" Recline asked with mock indignation. "If your brothers can't go an offcycle without you, then I can recharge the whole lot of you. I may not have enough surface area for a whole gestalt, but I certainly have enough cables and ports. And I promise we'd have loads of fun at the slumber party before I call lights out."

"You are incorrigible," First Aid scolded, retracting his mask and stretching upward to give the berthformer a coveted kiss (mechs on the Ark swore by their power). "And, my brothers are very much in favor of that idea, by the way, the next time you can fit us into your schedule. But an offcycle alone with you would be really nice, too, Recline."

"I'll get the rest of them out cold and keep you awake a little longer," Recline stage whispered.

"Like your protocols would _even_ let you keep an overworked medic online," First Aid said, reluctantly breaking the embrace, but not before letting his hands linger on the berthformer's backstruts and aft. Recline was built to be pleasant to touch and encouraged as much touching as possible.

"Hmm, I bet I could convince my protocols that there are some things that would make you recharge _extra_ well," Recline surged his fields in just the right way to illustrate.

First Aid gave a little squeak, and then took a step away, his mask snapping back into place. "Okay, you have to go now, before I do something I'm not supposed to on duty," First Aid scolded, his hands sternly on his hips in contradiction of the smile that somehow showed even through his visor and mask. "Go give Carly a good night's sleep. Primus knows she needs it."

Recline gave the junior medic a saucy salute, then headed out the door. Flirting with his friend (and scoring an appointment with the whole gestalt) had done just what he'd needed it to in terms of steadying his own field. He had to admit, he was more nervous and excited than normal at the prospect of new patients. He'd spent time with biologicals on one of his expeditions with Sparkwire, but he'd never had a chance to actually perform his function with one, much less a mother and infant. Organic lifeforms' fields were different. Far more simple in some ways, and yet intricate in others. He couldn't wait to engage in the complex dance of spark manipulations that would have his fields harmonizing with theirs, to know for himself the similarities and differences, and weave his peace into their patterns.

When he reached the modified storage room that served as the Witwicky's apartment, he signaled politely, his audials detecting the shrill cries of the infant within. Daniel was, apparently, what the humans termed as a 'colicky child', something that was completely normal, according to First Aid, but which could cause significant distress for the caretakers. "Just a moment," Carly's exhausted voice came through the intercom. He could hear her trying to settle little Danny inside, which only seemed to upset him further.

"You might have to come back later," the frazzled mother said through the intercom again a moment later. "I... this just isn't a good time."

"Carly, it's Recline. It doesn't have to be a good time. I'm here to help. Will you let me?" Recline asked gently.

"Recline oh... Aid did say you might stop by. I'm... I just..." the door slid open. While Recline didn't possess the coding to have an appreciation for human physical attractiveness, even he could tell that Carly was not her normal lovely self. The skin beneath her eyes was darker, the normally smooth waves of her blonde hair were sticking out in every direction, and stress pheromones radiated off of her as surely as the raggedness of her bioenergetic fields. She held Daniel awkwardly in her arms as he screamed and screamed.

"He just never stops," Carly admitted over the high-pitched shrieks, a wane smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "And I know Aid said I should try to sleep when he does, but when does he sleep? His naps are forty minutes long, at most, and I have three articles due and have to use that time, or I'll never get tenure. I've already risked that with the extra long maternity leave. When Spike's here, I can at least get a break."

"And how about nighttime? Are you two getting any sleep then?" Recline asked, kneeling to be closer to her level. His field was already extending to include the two bioenergetic ones before him. He wanted to reach out and hold them both close, but wasn't certain how Carly would feel about that yet. The infants's cries subtly changed frequency as the berthformer focused first on smoothing and harmonizing the energies around the tiny, fiery being, finding the right resonance. He knew Carly would find it easier to relax once the crying had stopped. Her genetically coded instincts demanded that she _do_ something to soothe him, and with a colicky child, that was near impossible.

"It's awful, Recline," she admitted, "To think I once privately scoffed at parents who complained so much. I'm used to staying up late grading and preparing lectures, how much harder could it be, right? But getting an hour or two of sleep here and there, in between hours of screaming that won't stop? The only time he isn't crying is when he's asleep or nursing, but if I over do the nursing, he gets an upset tummy and it's even worse." Recline could sense the shaking of her exhausted hands as surely as he heard the tremble in her voice. In the literature he had read, he knew colicky babies had a far greater risk of accidental or even deliberate injury from their caregivers as the stress built from having to care for an inconsolable child day after day.

"May I please hold him, Carly?" Recline asked softly.

"I guess," Carly replied, looking desperate to hand him off. Recline cupped his hand and Carly put the shrieking baby in it. The metalogel automatically adjusted to Danny's tiny shape, cradling him as he carefully brought his hand to spark level where his field could have the greatest impact. The crying stopped immediately, the baby's eyes wide as if he suddenly had something to notice aside from his distress. Recline began humming and crooning the way he would to an especially distraught mech, and the baby's movements stilled further. He extended a soft frond from one of his uncharged cables, no thicker than Carly's own index finger, and tiny hands immediately grasped on, followed by the infant's mouth.

"I don't know whether to love you or hate your right now," Carly admitted, giving a slightly hysterical laugh. "Do you know how many times I've tried to get him to take a pacifier? And he doesn't stop crying for anyone, except First Aid. Not me, not Spike, not any of the mechs who've tried."

"I have some theories about that," Recline admitted. "Danny got a lot of First Aid's field for the fifteen weeks he was in the incubation chamber. Especially when Aid hooked it up to his own systems to monitor during his offcycles. I'm using First Aid's resonance frequency right now."

Carly was silent for a moment. "It probably shouldn't surprise me that Spike and I would have a baby who imprinted on a giant robot from outer space," she said softly, shaking her head. "I can't ask First Aid to do any more than he's done, and with Ratchet already at Autobot City..."

"I can help, Carly," Recline said gently. "And I may even be able to help some of the others learn how to adjust their fields the right way. You don't have to do this alone."

Tears began pouring down Carly's face, "I'm a horrible mom, Recline. I should be able to handle this! You all have far more important things to do than help with a baby."

Recline reached out his free hand and, and when Carly didn't flinch or protest, gently cupped her back. "You are not a horrible mom, Carly. You just have an unusually fussy baby who was impacted by the method of his final trimester of development. And as to the rest, you and Spike are Autobots, right? We take care of one another."

Apparently it was just the wrong thing to say, or just the right, because Carly had collapsed into the hand behind her back and was sobbing.

* * *

It had taken some convincing. Carly had been tempted to use the time Danny was asleep to catch up on her work, but Recline had convinced the exhausted mother to come with him and get some much needed rest (the apartment, sadly, was not large enough for him to transform into berthmode). He didn't feel at all guilty for the minor deception involved in the excuse that he wanted her with him the first time he watched Daniel, just to make sure "he was doing everything right," - not if it got her some uninterrupted rest. He'd waited outside the door, continuing to croon and hum at the sleeping infant while she'd gotten "dressed and presentable" for the walk to the room that served as both his office and quarters, not bothering trying to convince her that no one would even notice the messy hair and bathrobe. It would make her feel more comfortable with him, anyhow, and that was the point.

He had surprised her by having chamomile tea available in his office. Heating water was simple for a mech who could so easily manipulate various types of wave frequencies, and he had stocked herbs and a couple mugs early on when he realized that there was a potential for biological patients. The fact was, he was downright giddy about having an opportunity to finally put those supplies to use.

Sadly, he did not have a comfortable chair for her, so he did something even better and transformed, shifting Danny without waking him to an oval shaped cradled area above his spark on the charging platform. He then molded another spot next to it that was just right for Carly to curl up in with her tea, forming a thin envelope of his mesh-covered metalogel on the softest, plushest setting that she could snuggle in as a blanket. It had been easy enough to mold a set of stairs into his berthmode, but she had hesitated before climbing up.

"You know, I've ridden with enough of you guys that this shouldn't be weird, but it is a little strange, Recline," she admitted, taking a sip of her tea at the bottom of the stairs, a hand reaching out to trace one of the ornate glyphs the decorated his base.

"Not for me," Recline said cheerfully, snuggling Daniel a little more when he stirred (at exactly the forty minute mark, he noted). The baby shifted right back into deeper sleep. "But this is what I do."

"It's just so strange to think that on Cybertron even the furniture is alive," she said thoughtfully.

"Well, most furnishings aren't sparked. My frame class is very specialized. Our code lineage goes back to a specific type of medics. Emergency responders transformed into ambulances, maintenance mechs had the ability to tow, and my kind were the medical berths, though we were far more rare, even then, and tended to focus on field balancing and alignment, as well as the relationship between frame, processors, and spark." Given human sensibilities, Recline opted not to mention that pleasureberths that were also part of his frame class's heritage. He didn't think she would need that type of treatment to fall asleep, anyhow. Maybe once she knew him better.

"Like a holistic doc," Carly exclaimed as she climbed up to the charging platform and saw the area he had molded for her to use. "Oh wow, that looks... really nice, Recline."

Recline thrummed with pleasure at the compliment as she carefully made her way across his charging platform to the nest-like area next to Daniel's smaller oval, right over his spark. "I'll change the configuration of it when you are ready to lay down, Carly," he said. "Be sure to tell me if there is anything that doesn't feel right."

"Don't feel bad if I don't sleep, though, Recline. I have trouble sleeping in new places," she warned as she curled into her area with an audible sigh of pleasure. "Though you do feel really, really good. Why does the air here feel different. It's... like slipping into a warm bath, without the water."

"Part of it is the temperature adjustments I can make to my metalogel, and part of it is that I have unique frequencies associated with my field," he explained, his spark giving a happy surge when she choose to curl up in the "blanket" he had formed for her, her tiny body now snuggled in part of his own like she was meant to be there. He tried to avoid doing too much to actively embrace her the way he might one of his mech patients, but did slowly meld the nest around her more closely.

She took a sip of tea and snuggled in further, leaning in to his embrace. Her brainwaves began settling into an alpha wave pattern, and he could feel her bioenergetic field relaxing slowly into his own, being drawn into harmony with the far larger one it was enveloped by. "I can't believe how well he is sleeping for you, Recline. I guess it shouldn't surprise me, though, considering what you said about First Aid's field," she said, stretching and yawning.

"Some of the literature I read call the first three months after birth the fourth trimester, and during that time, babies just want to crawl back into the warm, comfy place they came from, and get really upset about it," Recline commented. "Since the incubation chamber was so womb-like, little Danny probably really does feel like he was just born."

"And instead of wanting to get back in me, he wants that chamber again, and First Aid's field," she said a little sadly, before shaking her head and brightening a bit on his sensors. "At least we know it isn't reflux. First Aid checked him for that. I once read that colicky babies are really just old souls who aren't so sure how they feel about being back for one more go around."

Recline vibrated a bit with laughter, this time deliberately hugging her with his metalogel so she would notice it. She hugged the "blanket" in return. "We had a similar legend about new sparks that were having trouble settling into their frames," he said. "Some tended to be rather cantankerous their first few vorns, and gave their mentors no end of trouble."

"So alike, yet so different," she murmured. "Recline, thank you. You don't... I can't...," she sniffed, wiping her eyes, and he began to gently massage her, thicker knobbles of metalogel kneading the knots out of her muscles. "I get really scared of what builds up in me when he's been crying for hours on end and I haven't slept in what feels like days. Suddenly I can understand the parents who shake their babies, and..." her voice trailed off and she silently started to sob.

Recline inwardly debated the merits of encouraging her to continue to talk about her feelings versus getting the rest she so desperately needed. He continued to massage her tense muscles, crooning, his fields subtly smoothing and soothing her own. She would be able to better face such demons after she'd rested, he thought. He used a charging cable to gently removed the tea mug from her hand when it started to list, slowly shifting her to a more prone position.

"Recline, that feels amazing," she finally said softly. "You are totally spoiling me."

"That's my function, and yours is to just relax. I'll take good care of Danny, and good care of you. Just sleep, Carly, whenever you are ready."

"Mmm... make sure to wake me up when he needs to eat, hon," she said, her words slurring with exhaustion.

"I'm on it, sweetspark," Recline agreed, his systems purring in contentment as sensors registered her brainwaves transitioning quickly to a theta pattern, and then more slowly into deep delta sleep.

* * *

Seven hours later, Carly was still out, now snuggled deeply into the outer layer of his metalogel, curled around and holding the "snugglesnake" he'd used twice to gently turn her and slip Daniel in to nurse. Both times she had stirred only enough to cuddle her baby a bit closer and fallen right back to sleep. Daniel was stirring again now, and judging by his bioenergies and brain waves, Recline guessed that the infant was heading toward a true waking cycle. Judging by the evidence of his olfactory sensors, the baby was also in need of a diaper change. He was about to reach for the diaper bag with another cable when he was pinged from the corridor with the ID of another visitor. He gave a happy trill and signaled the door to open, warning the mech outside to stick to internal comms for Carly's sake.

::She's still out?:: First Aid asked cheerfully as he entered. ::You look, as the humans say, happy as a dog with two tails.::

::I am,:: Recline agreed, purposefully wagging a couple of his cables.

::And how is the little scraplet?:: First Aid asked.

::Perfect, and waking up, though I don't think he's hungry. He just fed an hour ago. You want to take him so mama can sleep longer?::

::Absolutely, even if you are just trying to get out of the diaper change,:: First Aid teased, collecting the diaper bag and sitting on Recline's charging platform for a quick snuggle before he left.

::Yep, you know me, always trying to get out of caring for the needs of others,:: Recline agreed jauntily, wrapping his free cables around his friend for a hug.

::Thanks Recline, I've been worried about her,:: First Aid said, nuzzling a cable and hugging it extra tight.

::Little guy seems to like your field frequency a whole lot,:: Recline said gently. ::But don't you dare go beating yourself up about that.::

::I won't,:: First Aid promised, reaching over to pick up the tiny being he had worked so diligently to save, brightening his visor to catch Danny's attention as he woke and extending a manipulator from his finger for the baby to grasp. ::The colic will pass, and other consequences, whatever they end up being, are worth it. I know his parents would agree.::

::Baby just has two mommies,:: Recline said warmly. ::And a daddy, and a whole bunch of crazy uncles. He's a lucky kid.::


	9. Breaking Down Part 1

**Title:** Breaking Down Part 1  
**Author:** Femme4jack  
**Rating:** R  
**Continuity:** G1 AU (Recline the Berthformer)  
**Characters & Relationships:** Recline/First Aid, Recline/Breakdown, Blaster, Hound, Jazz, Motormaster, Optimus Prime, P!Bots, Prowl, Red Alert, Samwise the Great Dane, Sunstreaker  
**Notes:** Part 1 of the long-promised "Recline gets captured by Decepticons fic." I almost gave up on this so many times, and would never have gotten to this point without the poking, urging, editing and encouragement of Fractalserpent *hugs forever*.

**Content: Violence, physical abuse, noncon hardline interface (forced recharging, attempts to force gestalt merge), angst, hurt/comfort.**

* * *

Recline did not spend a great deal of time beyond the immediate vicinity of the Ark, though he did enjoy walks in the nearby wilderness areas, collecting various materials for his amulets and energon additives. He occasionally accompanied Beachcomber or Hound on longer outings; both of them relaxed best outdoors, and he could just as easily 'bed down' (as Chip called it) in a meadow as in his quarters.

Samwise, a Great Dane mix, usually came on his hikes. Even though Hound had been the one to actually adopt the puppy, Samwise could often be found tagging along wherever Recline went, likely because of how much the good-natured creature enjoyed curling up on Recline's berthmode.

But much as Recline enjoyed his longer outings, there was little doubt that he was a homebody. He had no mobile alt, nor the need for speed and movement many of the others had. Even if Earth had a public transportation system for beings his size, the fact was that Recline came from a long lineage of bots _coded_ to be a homebodies. Under a different set of circumstances, he might never have ventured forth from Iridium unless furnishing the cadre's air yacht - there was nothing like bringing your own sparked berth on your own sparked ship to display your status.

No, Recline was perfectly happy to stay home. He knew he had an important purpose, and did not feel shame for his complete inability to be armed and dangerous. He was the one to greet the scratched, dented, and too often amputated troops upon their return, offering the comfort of his platform, cables and generous field to those who needed it most after an engagement. There was always _someone_ who needed it the most, and the Autobots had their own ways of sorting that out before they arrived back on base.

Assisting in medical was especially meaningful to him. His presence had a calming effect on damaged warriors who could not shut down their battle protocols, and he was, without a doubt, the best choice to hold mechs who could not safely be put in stasis. In more than a few cases, he had also been the berth to hold a mech whose spark could not be saved, making sure their final moments were full of love and peace. It was, paradoxically, the most difficult and rewarding part of his function.

Knowing that the Autobots got nervous if he ventured too far, Recline stayed within the security perimeter on his solo walks. The limitation did not bother him in the least. It helped them to know he was safely ensconced away, sure to be there when they needed him. The last thing Recline wished to do was cause his friends further anxiety. When he did actually get out for the periodic visit to Portland or Seattle, the journey was made in the protection of Prime's trailer. _Those_ were quite the memorable occasions. Turn around was always fair play, and Optimus apparently took great pleasure in strapping his favorite recliner down on road trips.

Thinking about fun times in Prime's trailer was helping distract Recline and keep him calm now. The straps of the trailer he was currently in bit deeply into his mesh armor, one of them coming close to crushing the components in his right pede. Whatever Motormaster had in store for him, Recline was more likely to survive if he remained centered. It was a lesson he had learned all too well in the vorns between Iridium and taking up with Sparkwire at the Medical Academy.

Recline wasn't sure if this had just been an opportunity grab, or if the Stunticon leader had been waiting specifically for him. All he knew was that one moment he had been walking along a forest service road toward a copper-laced gypsum deposit he had located within the security perimeter, and the next he was in the dirt, a fusion cannon aimed at his spark and a device shorting out his communications. Thankfully, Motormaster had only flicked Samwise away rather than crushing him in response to the furious barking and efforts to bite. The dog was knocked out, but the quick scan Recline had managed showed the injuries were not life threatening.

Recline's next thought had been concern for Red Alert. The mech would have an omega-sized freak out when he realized his perimeter had failed, and Inferno, who was a source of so much stability for the security director, was currently mopping up the response to an Earthquake in Mexico with the Protectobots.

First Aid would also take it hard (and keep to himself just how hard he was taking it). He and Recline had been edging their way toward something deeper since... well... really since the gestalt had onlined. It had pretty much been love at first brush of fields, and even First Aid's ever-so-protective brothers tended to smoosh the two of them together as often as possible, whenever First Aid's over-clocked responsibility coding allowed. Recline had even been made an honorary Protectobot in a ceremony that had involved a lot of high grade, giggle fits, and a game Carly taught them called 'spin the bottle.'

That memory helped to calm Recline and made him smile a little, there in the darkness of the Decepticon trailer. This was a time to hold on to what made him whole, not to contemplate being severed from First Aid and the 'in-laws' entirely.

"Where are you taking me?" Recline softly tested the waters. He couldn't diffuse the situation until he knew the form the explosion was likely to take.

"Shut the slag up, if you know what's good for you, Autobot!" the voice around him echoed.

The cables bit a little tighter in warning, though Recline noted that they stopped short of further injury to his pede. Motormaster knew he was poorly armored, then, and was taking care, at least for now. It made sense. Why make the effort to capture rather than offline him, if Motormaster did not intend him to serve some purpose? For the short term, anyway.

The raw brutality of the field buzzing against his own did not bode well for the longer term, though. Recline could not sense whether the animosity was directed at him in particular, the universe itself, or perhaps the sigil he wore - but it was violent all the same, and barely contained. The only defense Recline had was his ability to use his field to gently manipulate the one around him. It was hard to reach out to a field pulsing with that much aggressive anger, hard to feel the sort of empathy that would allow for such a connection. It helped that he had plenty of experience with Autobot frontliners. In mechs like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, he'd learned to find the undercurrents and eddies beneath the obvious fluctuations, and bolster those with the modulations of his own field.

There was real danger in letting his field mingle with the one currently around him, though. Motormaster, he feared, would not hesitate to crush him if he felt himself being 'smoothed'.

Recline called up several centering memory files, his affection for the many he cared for quieting his own buzzing edges. When his own field was modulated to a nearly invisible presence, he gently meshed more fully with the one grating against him, accepting whatever he found there with no reaction or judgment. It was not easy to find the undercurrents, but finally he brushed against something other than brute aggression.

_Frustration_ was the most obvious eddy, with a barely detectable undercurrent of _shame_. The conflict inherent in those emotions could cause even a strong leader to lash out. Recline considered what he knew of Motormaster's team. They were a group with dangerously unbalanced coding and sparks, led by a mech who was much the same.

Once Recline began to look more deeply into those currents, the truth of the situation became easy to guess. Motormaster was deeply loyal to Megatron, had been given charge of his team, and no matter how much he raged at them, how brutally he punished them, they were not the cohesive, unstoppable force Megatron demanded they be. The unacknowledged shame Motormaster felt made him strike out against his team even more brutally, in a vicious cycle. The frustration in Motormaster's field was the shadow side of the mech's leadership qualities, the true-sparked sense of responsibility and duty, though misguided and twisted.

Recline briefly questioned the integrity of manipulating Motormaster's field without his knowledge - his stringent ethical coding was one of the many reasons his field-reading skills had not been capitalized on by SpecOps for interrogations. But this, at least, was barely within his allowable limits. He had a duty to do whatever he could to survive and get back home, so he visualized etching one of the ancient prayer glyphs, asking for wisdom and guidance, and then carefully modulated his field.

* * *

"Fix him!" Motormaster commanded, shoving Recline at the red-faced, blue and white mech, sending both of them staggering to keep their footing. Recline could not help but notice the shove had not been hard enough to damage. The massive mech was following normal patterns, to be sure, but Recline dared to hope that his field-smoothing efforts had not been entirely in vain.

Clearly, though, such techniques would not be so easily applied here. The smaller Decepticon lashed out, striking Recline to the ground before whirling to face Motormaster with an expression both of defiance and terror. He was visibly shaking, anxiety and raw fear radiating vividly from his plating. He ran hot to the touch, so much that this world's thin atmosphere seemed to shimmer around him, and Recline wondered if the heat was related to whatever malfunction was causing his severe tremor.

But... fix him? "I'm not a medic..." Recline started, pushing himself back to his own pedes. He reached out on instinct to touch the blue and white mech, only to be violently thrown aside again, his mesh armor buckling and his arm wrenched hard before he could even register the attack or the pain.

"Keep your slagging digits off me!" the smaller Decepticon screamed, kicking at Recline's prone form. The blow from sharp-edged pede was hard enough to perforate the berthformer's dorsal mesh. Recline moaned, curling into a ball to protect his spark as his optics made several attempts to reset and focus, unable to tell if the smaller Decepticon was shaking even harder or if his own optical stabilizer had been jarred loose.

Motormaster roared and lashed out with a heavy fist, even as the smaller Decepticon drew back his leg for another kick. The frighteningly powerful punch connected with the shaking Decepticon and flung him halfway across the clearing with a terrible rattling clang. "Don't damage him, you slag sucking spawn of a half-clocked fragging-drone!" Motormaster snarled, stalking to stand over the still-shivering tangle of Decepticon limbs and plating. "This is the one that fixed their paranoid glitch of a security director. He's as soft as one of those insect humans and will be completely useless if he's injured!"

Fixed Red Alert? Recline squinted up at Motormaster in confusion. The director of security was certainly on his rotation on a fairly frequent basis, and he'd done couples sessions with him and Inferno when they'd had a rough patch. But there was nothing _wrong_ with Red Alert that Ratchet hadn't repaired. Red was outstanding at his function and had all the right skills to do it well. Like any security-coded mech, he needed others to connect with, who would pull him away from his hard coded isolation and paranoid tendencies. Inferno went a long way in providing that balance. Recline supposed that he did help Red Alert relax his defenses enough to allow his anchor to form a deeper bond.

Then again, it was probably better for Motormaster to believe Recline had some hand in 'fixing' Red Alert, if that was the purpose of his abduction. He flinched as Motormaster reached down with a massive hand, and seized the smaller Decepticon by his cervical cabling... and then *lifted* him, just picked him up by the neck, like the three-mechanoton warframe weighed nothing at all. Only semi-lucid, the smaller mech squirmed, catching at Motormaster's wrist. "I 'dun need any soft-sparked frameless autobot piece of fragging furnit-"

"He need to be online for you to fix him?" Motormaster demanded.

Recline vented, offered up a prayer of forgiveness... and shook his helm. What he needed was time, and charging an offline mech could give that to him. It wasn't that different than the treatments he sometimes gave in Medical while mechs were still in stasis, though at least he knew he had consent agreements on file for the Ark-based Autobots. It would be impossible to recharge an online mech who obviously did not want anyone plugged into his systems.

He was thankful that he'd asked Mirage to transfer his loyalty coding to Optimus rather than deleting it altogether. Prime had given him very clear orders in case of capture, and Recline could, at least in the short term, do what he needed to do in order to survive, even if it was in violation of his berthformer oath.

Even still, Recline flinched when Motormaster lifted his free hand, and brought it down on the smaller mech's already-dented helm with a ferocious bang, knocking him temporarily offline.

"You're a berth. Act like one," Motormaster snarled in his terrible, hollow tones, stalking towards Recline even as he swept the damaged Decepticon up in both arms.

As quickly as his battered frame would allow, Recline shifted into his alt, his berthform settling atop the thick padding of grasses and wildflowers. Recline would try to be as noninvasive as possible, while still offering a short-term result that might be enough to placate the dangerous gestalt leader. Motormaster placed his burden onto the berth's sun-warming surface more gently than Recline would have predicted.

"You have a joor and a half, berth. He'd better be able to combine when the others get here, or I'll crush you like the worthless scrap metal you are," Motormaster growled, before stomping to the other end of the clearing to keep watch.

* * *

The stinking meat sack was touching his pede again, Sunstreaker noticed. He was tempted to ignore the thing, but he couldn't help but note that the creature was behaving oddly. It would normally pass him by, give him a quick sniff that left an offensive streak of glossa slime, which had to polished off his plating. The frontliner had, obviously, adjusted his subroutines early on to prevent himself from flicking away all things organic, like he wanted to. The dog was, like the other nominally intelligent animals who wandered in and out of the Ark, designated as an ally and non-pest. Debatable, but it wasn't his place to argue that with the officers.

This time, though, the animal was visibly agitated, its loud, woofing vocalizations clearly directed at Sunstreaker. A few barks, and then it would run a few meters up the forest service road and back again, then vocalize some more. The dog was alone, too, though Sunstreaker had a clear memory file of that ridiculously unarmored piece of furniture walking up the road with it at the beginning of his shift.

"The frag is wrong with you? Primus, why can't they upgrade you so you can talk?" he growled at puny creature at his feet. It woofed with even greater agitation, running up the road and then looking over its shoulder as if to see if Sunstreaker was following. "If that berth fell and twisted a cable... why does Prime even let him out without a nannybot? Slagging ridiculous."

Sunstreaker sent a terse message to the mech monitoring comms that he was checking something out, and ignored the inquiries that followed. The animal's woofs became higher pitched, more excited as it ran up the road, then ran back, putting its forepaws on his shin armor and _licking him_. "Get off, you vile thing. Just show me where the fragging berth went. Slag, Hound's gonna pay if you're just trying to get attention," Sunstreaker muttered, extending his scanners to maximum and grumbling about a certain fragging piece of furniture who was higher on his action hierarchy than made any sort of common sense. Not that he had any choice. Fraggers would scream at him and he'd be toast if anything happened to Recline on his watch.

* * *

"It was Motormaster, no doubt about it, Prime," Hound said, scanning the signs left of the brief struggle at the northern border of the security perimeter. He ran a digit along Samwise's back, making him squirm with happiness; without the dog they would likely not have known of Recline's capture until he missed an appointment or check-in. "Happened sometime in the last two to four hours."

::_I'm going through the logs now, Prime,::_ Red Alert commed from the security office, where he was remotely monitoring the conversation. ::_It appears that some sort of dampener must have been used. There is an eight minute outage beginning 3.78 hours ago in that sector that did not activate an alarm. It should have. I will not recharge until I find out why._::

"I know you will do your best, Red Alert, but the last thing Recline would wish is for you to stress your systems with lack of recharge. We will find him."

::_There should also be logs of Motormaster coming and going on the remote sensors along whatever access roads he used, but there are none. _:: Red Alert continued, as though he had not heard.

"Red Alert, contact that Pentagon liaison who owes you a favor, for access to their satellite feeds and see if we can determine where he went," Optimus replied, forcefully resisting the urge to simply transform and roar down the road in search of the non-combatant. "I'm sure they have at least one pointed in our direction."

"Why the frag are we still standing here?" demanded Sunstreaker. "We need to go find and deactivate that filter sludge, then slag the pieces and do the same to rest of that glitchy 'Con team."

"Find him where?" Hound countered, though clearly twitching to find the berthformer. "Too many logging trucks and semis on the main roads. We'll lose the trail outside of our perimeter, and could end up going in the wrong direction entirely."

"Prime, I'd say the slagger grabbed him because he needed him," Jazz interjected. "And my hunch is that this was outside of the chain of command. Megatron wouldn't have any use for mechs who need a sparked berth. Motormaster acted on his own."

"The probability is high, then, that Motormaster will either let him go or dispose of him before Megatron expects him back on base," Prowl added, holding back from giving the odds of the latter.

::_Blaster,::_ Optimus commed, ::_contact the law enforcement authorities within a six hour radius based on Motormaster's average speeds, as well as the US-Candian customs and border patrol. Have them put out an all points bulletin to be on the lookout for a semi matching Motormaster's description, and for any of the other Stunticons.::_

_::Right on, Prime. I'm on it,::_ Blaster responded.

Optimus turned to face his second and third in command. "I want no effort spared to recover Recline. Time is of the essence. What do you propose?"

Jazz spoke first, bouncing on his pedes and ready to hit the pavement. "Have everyone available head on out in different directions in teams, coordinate with those already on patrol to cover the widest area we can. That way we'll have mechs ready to check out any spotting of ole Motormouth or his team. Keep the Aerials here on standby, and Skyfire to collect the P-bots from Mexico so we'll have both our big guys ready to tear Menasor a new exhaust port."

Optimus nodded. "Prowl?"

It would spread them thin, Prowl wanted to say. If Megatron did know of Recline's capture, and was using it strategically, drawing a large number of mechs in different directions might be exactly what had in mind.

But the strategist could not bring himself to object.

* * *

Recline quickly determined that the mech on his platform was designated Breakdown. The glyph was as much threat as designation, embellished with modifiers for enough strength, speed, and firepower to break down any barrier that stood in this mech's way, any defenses his enemies threw before him. But the english translation had a second meaning, and one all too apt. Breakdown himself was broken, his firewalls in tatters from previous efforts to correct his glitch. Absent those walls of code, it was chilling how easily Recline could access the Decepticon's systems, the few walls still left as easy to sweep away as wispy cobwebs.

No wonder the mech did not want anyone close to him. And no wonder he would not, or could not, combine with his team any longer. Gestalts could only combine with the consent of all of their members, and even unconscious resistance to the bond could cause a malfunction in that unique transformation.

Recline tried to stay on the periphery, skirting the edges of those deep-seated wounds - though he did inject a line of code to make sure the broken Decepticon would remain offline for the duration of this defrag cycle. A quick access of the Stunticon's recharge logs was enough to tell him what he needed to know: Breakdown did not just recharge poorly; he did not recharge at all. At least not in a normal fashion. He could not. The only time he shut down was when he was made to, either through forced hardline or Motormaster's preferred method.

Coding rape or battering - that was how Breakdown recharged, or rather, how he entered temporary forced stasis. It only added to the vicious downward spiral.

Recline's cables stirred in discomfort. Doing this for a mech so wounded... it made Recline no better than the Decepticons who had been trying to 'repair' this profoundly suffering mech. Sure, his platform was molded perfectly for Breakdown's comfort, and he longed to tenderly stroke the too-hot frame in compassion and build the kind of charge that would let Breakdown temporarily forget the pain. But the brutal truth of the matter was that Recline was in the Stunticon's systems without his consent, in order to save his own plating.

There was so little he could do to help. Perhaps with dozens of sessions, focussing directly on issues of spark resonance and balancing, as well as the underlying emotional response coding issues, Recline could help Breakdown learn to power down on his own and fully defrag, but only if Breakdown _wanted_ to. But even if Recline did, to where would Breakdown return? The Stunticon team was no haven. Unlike the Aerialbots, who sometimes sniped at one another and had their share of troubles but in the end would do anything for the other members of the gestalt, the Stunticons did not appear to be an anchoring group.

Or maybe they were, but their concept of caring was just so broken. Perhaps beating Breakdown into forced stasis, or demolishing his firewalls to permit the gestalt to merge, was Motormaster's idea of care. In fact, judging by the last three and a half hours spent in Motormaster's trailer, Recline would guess that the brutal leader truly intended to help Breakdown in his own twisted way. Trying something else, something kinder, might not even occur to him. Motormaster was powerful, after all, but he was also little more than a newspark.

It made Recline want to keen. How could he not care for mechs who were so brand new to functioning, and already so broken? And yet, what could he possibly do? One deep defrag was the best he could offer Breakdown at the moment, combined with a couple hours in a peaceful, compassionate field.

It would make little difference in the long term.

But it was what he could give, and he needed to steady himself in order to give it. Breakdown might not have memory logs of his time spent in on Recline's platform, but on some level he would register the field woven with his own. Determined to do his best, Recline accessed memories that could possibly bring the flavor to his field that a gestalt-sparked mech would need the most. While the memories themselves belonged to others and would not be shared, he certainly knew what it felt like for a fragmented gestalt to become whole again.

_He held First Aid with arms as well as his cables; the shaking medic half pulled away and then sank fully into the embrace. Sometimes Recline's mechform was the one most needed; his body could shape itself to embrace sharp angles just as his field could accept the rougher emotional edges. There was always a moment when First Aid would finally let go, field surging with all of the pain, worries and anger he held so close. Recline met those turbulent waves, even the scathing self-loathing, with pulses of acceptance. He knew better than to offer sympathy or to protest with the truth of First Aid's nobility and goodness. First Aid could not deal with that, not yet. He needed to be hard on himself before he could forgive himself._

_ It was just how he was wired. _

_First Aid did so much both to anchor and shield his team. It cost him - and it cost them. While they needed him to be strong, they also needed him, at the end of the day, to let go, to give them his pain as well as his solace. Sometimes, when First Aid was hurting the most, sharing first with Recline helped him to share with his team in turn and renew their bond._

_This time, the pain was deep. No medic was perfect. But this was the first time First Aid had come close to losing a mech due to making the wrong call rather than circumstances beyond his control. It did not seem to help that Ratchet and Hoist both assured him they would have made the same decision. First Aid held himself to a standard no mech could meet. He had lost trust in himself._

_'You'll find your confidence again,' Recline wanted to say, but did not. It was still too soon. 'Not yet, but you will. Everyone makes mistakes. Prime makes them, Ratchet makes them, I've made many, you will make them. And you will be furious with yourself, you will hate yourself, but in the end, you learn from them, and you'll be a better mech and medic from the lessons you've learned.'_

_Recline knew better than to say it was okay. It wasn't. Not right now. A mech's spark hung in the balance within the stasis tank. There was nothing more to done until the breach in Huffer's laser core either self-repaired from the inside or his spark lost containment altogether. _

_First Aid muffled his quiet keens in the plating just above Recline's spark, even now aware of his brothers waiting just outside, trying not to upset them. Soon he would reluctantly lower his blocks and let them in. Their love was just too much at the moment. _

_Recline felt the moment when First Aid finally lowered the block, that distinct shift in his field that showed he was no longer alone in his spark. The door to the Protectobots' quarters opened and four mechs rushed in, arms and cables entangling where their sparks already had joined, combining in a way that was just as profound as becoming Defensor. Recline began to unravel himself to leave when a pale blue hand wrapped around his arm._

_"Stay," Hot Spot urged him. "He wants you to."_

_"I..." There were so many reasons not to stay. The resentment that briefly surged in Blades' field was definitely one._

_"Stay," Blades growled. ::I don't like it,:: he commed privately, though Recline was certain the others already knew. ::I don't like that he has to show you this slag first. He shouldn't need a mediator. But he does, and better you than someone else. Stay.::_

_Recline flashed a grateful glyph, accepting the invitation, his field modulating to weave itself within the complex web around him, extending four more cables. "Let me charge all of you, then, when you're ready."_

_ He kept his own presence as unobtrusive as possible as the gestalt took in First Aid's reluctantly shared memory, enveloping him with their worry and love. They, in turn, shared their frustration that he shut them out and acceptance of just why he did. Now he was where he belonged, and they soothed his anger at himself within the broader context of their love for him and the honest assessment of just how much he had accomplished and learned in such a short time. _

_First Aid pulled Recline more deeply into the link, unwilling for him to simply be a passive observer, sharing as much as he could of the gestalt bond, of being many yet one as he finally allowed himself to sink into the love he had been blocking, letting himself be subsumed into the fierce care and protectiveness that was Defensor..._

Without violating the sanctity of the memory, Recline created a file of the feelings First Aid had shared as his gestalt became one. As he pulled Breakdown into a deep defrag, he cycled the memory of those feelings over and over again. On one level it was cruel because Breakdown never experienced that in functioning. But it was all Recline could give him, along with the care and compassion of his own field.

It would not be enough for Breakdown. But it might be enough to ensure that Recline would continue to function a while longer.


	10. Breaking Down Part 2

**Title:** Breaking Down Part II  
**Authors:** fractalserpent and Femme4jack  
**Fandom:** G1 AU (Recline the Berthformer)  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters/Relationships:** Recline(OC)/First Aid, Recline (OC)/Breakdown, Inferno, Optimus Prime, Blaster, Motormaster, Drag Strip, Dead End, Wildrider, Gears, Huffer, Prowl, Sunstreaker  
**Notes:** I've been working on this chapter since mid JULY and would never, ever have been able to finish it (nor the next one that is in progress) without fractalserpent, who switched from being awesomesauce beta to cowriter extraordinaire. Thank you so much fractal. You are pure high grade for the muses.  
Also, yes, we know that Motormaster's trailer doesn't come off in G1. But... you know, AU. Also, we do promise it will get better.

**Content: Graphic violence, robotic gore, noncon, mild mind-control/influencing, angst**

* * *

The only indication First Aid gave of the incoming message was the briefest pause in his welding of Inferno's cracked shoulder strut. The search and rescue mech had dived in to shield a half dozen self-appointed rescue volunteers who had insisted on entering a highly unstable structure, one Inferno had already declared clear of survivors. They escaped with their lives, but Inferno lost one of his ladder components in the collapse as well, leaving him partially sensor-blind since it doubled as a primary sensory structure.

"First Aid?" Inferno asked quietly, when the medic finished the weld on the largest crack.

First Aid gave a small shake of his helm, activating the soldering irons on his fingers to fill in the smaller cracks. "I'll have time to finish this before Skyfire arrives," he said softly. "But your ladder component will have to wait. Too much protometal and sensory circuitry in that for me to do it here."

"That ain't what I was askin'."

First Aid paused. "I... I just..." he looked despairingly around at the widespread destruction from the massive quake that had rocked the coastal city of Ensenada. The Mexican government and international organizations were relatively organized now, and Autobot sensors had determined that everyone still living had been rescued from the collapsed or damaged structures. It was a recovery mission from here on, not rescue. But everything still looked so bad, and there were so many refugees, not to mention the near constant aftershocks.

"He'll be alright," Inferno said. "And they'll be okay here. They were dealin' with this sort of scrap long before we showed up."

First Aid simply nodded, a little too quickly, attaching Inferno's plating he had earlier repaired and then switching off the sensor block. "I need to pack up," he said, rising to gather and subspace the supplies he would need from the shed where he was storing them. "Best take the rest of the day off until those welds set, Inferno." He left the supplies he'd brought for treating the humans. He would contact Médecins Sans Frontières to donate those.

Inferno watched as the medic silently sorted through his things, noting just how much plating patch, wiring, and protometal filler he was packing into his compartments and subspace. Recline had so little true armor.

"He'll be alright, First Aid," Inferno said again. "He's a survivor." The big red mech rose from the dusty ground and grasped the medic's white-plated shoulder.

"I'll... I'll have your ladder component ready as soon as I can," First Aid said quickly, his visor not meeting Inferno's optics. "My team's gathering at the airport."

"Get goin' then, I'll behave and not strain the welds," Inferno said. He reset his vocalizer as though he wanted to say more, but First Aid quickly turned and transformed, sirens blazing to get through the rubble-strewn streets faster.

"Get him back and don't ever let him go," Inferno said to the empty air.

* * *

::_Prime-my-mech,_:: Blaster commed as Optimus was slowing down to drive through the small town of Lynden, Washington, just south of one of the smaller border crossings into Canada. ::_Been monitoring the law enforcement channels, since our buddies take time to smell the daisies before they pass the goods along. They've got sightings that match Dead End and Wildrider, both near Pendleton headin' toward La Grande._::

Optimus resisted the urge to curse as he braked and turned into a parking lot. The position wasn't all that far from base, just three and half hours to the east. Meanwhile, he was seven hours northwest of that position, and many of the others were likely just as far away.

::_Well done, Blaster. Whom do we have closest?_::

::_Gears and Huffer are east of that position, gracing Enterprise, Oregon with their good cheer. That's about an hour and a quarter at their speeds. Prowl and Sunstreaker are an hour north of Boise, and could make it almost as fast if Prowl turns on his lights and bats his eyelashes at the state patrol. Oh... hold on a sec big bot... hot diggity dog! We've also got a forest ranger who spotted a Formula One racer that had no business bein' on a logging road clearing ruts he had no business clearing! That's east of La Grande, in Wallowa National Forest.__::_

Optimus had already turned, and was roaring west toward Interstate 5, the fastest route south, radioing the Washington state patrol to ensure he'd not be delayed. ::_Connect me to Huffer, Gears, Prowl and Sunstreaker. Are the Aerialbots, Skyfire, and the Protectobots ready to move?_::

::_Ready and waiting, Prime. Patchin' ya in now._::

* * *

Soundwave heard all things.

That did not necessarily mean he reported all things. Most of the intelligence Soundwave collected and collated was beneath Megatron's notice, anyway. But some of it... some of it was simply leverage. The Decepticon ranks were unfriendly places, and symbionts were fragile creatures. Ensuring their safety - ensuring that no fighter, no matter how overcharged or enraged, so much as touched a symbiont - required a complex network of bribery and blackmail. And the favors that Soundwave collected... well. Those came in handy, too.

Between the favors and the leverage, Soundwave could have staged an effective coup many times over. More importantly he had the leverage to assist or prevent Starscream from doing so, depending on what benefited Soundwave and his cohort the most. So he used his capital sparingly, with the conservative patience of one who knew that true power lay always behind the throne.

And so it came as no surprise to him when he detected those first frantic calls over hastily-encoded channels, and heard descriptions of the Stunticons on the law enforcement frequencies in six western states. After all, Soundwave, via Frenzy, had planted the information about the berthformer in the first place. And Laserbeak, with customary subtle skill, had delivered the implements that Motormaster needed for a successful abduction. Should the project succeed, Soundwave would add a powerful gestalt to the long list of mecha who owed him their functions. In the far more likely event that Motormaster failed... well, it would be Soundwave to whom Motormaster would be forced to turn.

Soundwave would make sure of that.

For if Motormaster proved recalcitrant, or attempted to double-cross his benefactor, Soundwave would simply inform Megatron of just how fragile his prized gestalt was, and how desperate Motormaster had become. Motormaster would lose any status he had gained within the Decepticon ranks, and Breakdown would be offlined and replaced. Motormaster came close some cycles to doing that deed himself, to be sure, but Soundwave knew better than to suppose the gestalt leader would ever take that final step. A gestalt bond was no simple thing, was difficult to weave and still harder to break. Breakdown's offlining would weaken the entire gestalt, and there was no guarantee of a successful graft of another spark into the complex bond. Thus, Motormaster's efforts to save the glitched melee warrior... and thus the opening for Soundwave to exploit.

Yes, Motormaster would have no choice but to turn to Soundwave. One did not send mecha plagued with psychological instability to Hook, after all, especially ones from a rival gestalt. In the end, when Soundwave completed reprogramming Breakdown, he would have an operative on the combiner team, and Menasor would belong to him entirely.

To that end, Soundwave kept Motormaster's little secret, kept the Autobot's desperate search for their pleasure-berth from Megatron's audials... for now. Such a service was, of course, never without cost. Soundwave simply added it to Motormaster's ever-growing list of favors owed.

* * *

Recline was aware of Motormaster looming over him in the chilly night air, could feel the intensity of that glare in the relentless buzz of the massive warframe's field. It was becoming increasingly taxing to compensate his own field to keep Breakdown in a bubble of peace on his platform. Breakdown was relaxed the way a deeply recharging mech was meant to be; why couldn't Motormaster keep his domineering field on the other side of the clearing where it wouldn't interfere with Recline's ill-fated efforts?

Recline swiftly firewalled the irritation and focussed on remaining an island of calm for the mech in his care.

"You have five more breems, berth," Motormaster growled.

"I am aware of the time frame," Recline responded in smooth tones, as devoid of feeling as his mentor had ever been. Recline felt the ground vibrate as Motormaster took another menacing step forward.

"Well, is he fixed?"

Recline hesitated. He could lie: 'yes, Breakdown is repaired, let me go'. 'Yes, Breakdown is repaired, I am no longer any use to you... alive'. Or he could tell the truth: Breakdown would hopefully be able to combine with his team, at least this one time, and with his systems fully defragged he'd probably even _need_ to. But it wasn't a permanent fix. Not to mention there was nothing to stop the gestalt leader from simply plundering Breakdown's logs and finding out for himself exactly what Recline had done, and what he simply couldn't do; Motormaster would surely kill Recline just the same.

And... misleading Motormaster wouldn't help Breakdown. The others would call him foolish or glitched or worse for caring, but Recline couldn't just leave this broken newspark alone like this. Not without instructions, directions, some glimmer of hope. For better or worse, Motormaster and his team were the only Decepticons who actually cared for Breakdown's wellbeing.

Hurriedly, Recline began uploading another file, a training meditation taught to mecha of his class almost before they could transform. It was a simple focussing algorithm, a looping recursion that cleared the field and eased the processor. He overlaid it with a recording of Breakdown's own processor waves during the defrag, interlaced with the same emotive stream from the merged Protectobots that Recline had used to help the Decepticon achieve that level of recharge.

"I have given your teammate eleven and a half hours of peaceful recharge and a deep defrag. I'm putting a meditative memory file in his temp storage - it may calm him enough to recharge on his own... should he choose to use it. But," Recline paused to allow all the urgent modifiers he'd laced around the simple conjunction glyph sink in, "he _must_ be given the time and space, free from threats of violence and systems violation, to make that choice. If you force him to access that file, instead of letting him practice with it on his own, the eventual backlash will be worse than what you are currently dealing with."

"You dare criticize my methods?" Motormaster thundered. "He's a Decepticon warrior, created by Lord Megatron himself! Not some soft-shelled piece of Autobot shareware!"

Recline's cables tightened reflexively around the mech on his platform, and his metalogel prepared to quickly envelope Breakdown to absorb the blow if it came. "It is not my place to judge your methods. But if they were truly working as intended, would you have abducted me?"

Recline routed even more energy to his field amplifiers to dissipate Motormaster's immediate and violent electromagnetic surge, even as he felt the air move against his haptics from the gestalt-leader's raised fist.

The blow did not fall.

Motormaster spat a binary curse and stomped away to the edge of the clearing. Shortly after, Recline heard the distinctive sound of a high performance engine followed by a transformation sequence and the fall of pedes coming toward the clearing. He did not bother focussing his audials on the harsh words exchanged, but rather turned his full attention back to the mech on his platform. Unless Recline missed his guess, he had only a few more minutes to hold Breakdown close.

* * *

::_Of course we'd end up as Stunticon bait,_:: Huffer whined as he and Gears plodded up logging road switchbacks toward the patchwork of old clearcuts. ::_I'm the most expendable. How many engineers do you even need on a planet without any proper building materials? Prime already thinks I'm a waste of energon._::

::_I've got dust from the road clogging every single cog,_ Gears added. ::_Sun'll probably be up before we find them, too, and it's sure to get too slagging hot for my infrared to do any good. Pretty sure that last pothole before we transformed knocked my sensor solenoids out of calibration anyhow.::_

Despite the near constant complaining back and forth on their comms, the two minibots walked carefully and quietly, Gear's infrared stretched to the maximum in all directions for any sign of the Stunticons or Recline in the moonless night. They stepped carefully over the large dikes and ruts the Forest Service had bulldozed into the dirt road to prevent its use by motorized traffic once the logging operation had been completed. Not that those would stop Cybertronian-enhanced suspension - Motormaster's eighteen wheels had left clear parallel tracks, easy to follow even in the starlight. The minibots moved almost silently on hydraulic-cushioned pedes. Without the sound of their own altmode engines to interfere, their sharp audials could pick the the faintest noises, including small organics rustling in the forest around them... and then, distantly the rumble of two engines.

The two froze, their sharp sensors detecting the distinct harmonics that gave away the alien origin of the vehicles, which had both of them immediately scrambling down the steep, brush-covered embankment below the road. ::Prowl and Sunstreaker already?:: Huffer asked, as though the officer and frontliner arriving early was a personal affront.

::_Can't tell. And now I've got slagging pine pitch gumming up my emitters and dirt up my drivetrain._::

::_Cut the chatter,_ Prowl interjected, using the officer frequency. ::_Wildrider and Dead End are ahead of us and approaching your position. They do not yet appear to be aware we are following them. Proceed according to plan. We will approach your position from the eastern set of switchbacks._::

Gears and Huffer swiftly shut down not just their comm chatter, but also anything that might register on the Decepticons' sensors. Neither so much as cycled their vents as the red Porsche and gunmetal grey Ferrari rumbled along the broken road above, easily clearing the ruts and dikes despite their visibly low-slung suspension. Every minibot learned over time the skills of running silent. It was one advantage they had over less efficient mechs.

The two frontliners passed them by without slowing, and Gears tracked the Decepticons on his enhanced infrared as the warframes made their way up the switchbacks. He marked the exact point where the two transformed and made their way off the road, disappearing into a patch of trees that had not been cut.

'Stunticon bait,' Huffer mouthed, catching Gears's optics. Gears gave a quick nod and they briefly clasped hands before following silently on foot.

* * *

Recline normally brought his patients back online slowly, often with some lazy interfacing as part of the process, depending on the mech involved. In this case, his only goal was to be far enough away so as not to be turned into scrap when Breakdown rebooted. He wasn't sure if that fate was avoidable unless Motormaster chose to prevent it.

"Time's up," Motormaster snarled from across the clearing, even as Recline heard two more engines stop, followed by transformation sequences and the heavy thud of warframe pedes. Motormaster and all three of the others were present now. Recline could hear them arguing across the meadow in their heavy Decepticon accents.

Recline hesitated - would Motormaster come to claim his teammate? The Stunticon leader did not. The berthformer vented, then wrapped Breakdown firmly in his cables, ready to lift him off of himself and slide him to the ground once the berthformer had gone through the onlining sequence.

Recline normally would return motor control early in the process, to avoid causing his patient to feel helpless, which could trigger a violent reboot. In this case he didn't dare. But he also could not leave Breakdown unattended as he onlined - Recline needed to make sure Breakdown's cooling, energy dispersion, and fuel consumption systems initialized properly after having been replaced by the berthformer's own throughout the deep defrag.

It felt profoundly wrong to not gently stir Breakdown's higher level processing, welcoming him back online with warmth and love. But Breakdown would surely experience that as a horrifying invasion. No, Recline had no choice but to leave conscious functioning and motor control to the very end, and then get the frag away.

Recline double checked that his personal messages were still carefully firewalled and encrypted, adding secondary notes both for Optimus and First Aid. The first included a copy of his base code and the code of several other berthformers he had in his archives. Perhaps the future would allow for a new berthformer to be created. The second note...

Recline never regretted that he and First Aid had proceeded slowly and cautiously. First Aid was a member of a gestalt, with many deep bonds already upon his spark, and Recline... By coding and the nature of his very spark, Recline was available to all who needed him. Those demands were not insurmountable, but... First Aid and his team were so very young. There had been no hurry.

Recline was thankful for that, now. Should the berthformer be extinguished, First Aid would not experience his first bond-sever. He ejected the capsule that held his encrypted messages beneath his platform base, out of sight, a cable deftly burying it in the ground. Wheeljack's invention would mold itself to assume the shape of the matter around it - in this case a buried stone. It would not emit a signal until pinged with the proper code, and others would know to search for it. Such capsules were standard practice.

Recline had never before needed to use one.

Steeling himself, Recline initiated his patient's bootup sequence, and then backed up. Fast.

Not fast enough.

Breakdown came online like the warframe frontliner he was, battle protocols first, weaponry second. The decepticon's small gattling gun squealed as it spun up, spitting a spray of lead in an arc across the clearing, clanging off solid steel across the clearing, drawing a vitriolic curse from Motormaster. Recline didn't even have a chance to register the pain and damage of the projectiles that sank into the mesh armor of his thigh before Breakdown had twisted his pedes under him like a cybercat, launching himself at the nearest threat. Then Recline was crushed to the ground under repeated blows from Breakdown's fists.

* * *

There were - there were tracks throughout Breakdown's processor, flags where bits of code had been rejoined or tucked away. Nothing was the way he'd left it, nothing left to him alone - the Autobot'd had his filthy servos on everything, every part of him. There wasn't much a gestalt member could keep private anyway, precious few parts that the gestalt couldn't access. But now... even those had been opened, rifled through.

Breakdown beat the frame beneath his, uncaring that his fist ripped right through the meshy armor into the semi-liquid metalogel below. Broken wires sparked, hissed. Fury gripped him. One pummeling blow ripped in further, and Breakdown reared back, talons spread. He'd carve the interloper apart, rend the spark that had so violated his every system, claw through the mechanisms that linked this filthy Autobot's spark chamber with the rest of his systems -

- and a far bigger hand caught that descending fist of knives. "Quit it, you fragger," Motormaster hissed, and something in Recline wondered distantly how the massive warframe had managed to cross the clearing so fast, so quietly. "We need him functioning to keep you fixed."

"I'm not glitched!" Breakdown's vocalizer broke with emotion. "I d-don't need to be fixed anymore, not by a f-filthy autobot! He was everywhere, I can feel - just fragging everywhere - I'll extinguish him!"

Motormaster hauled the frontliner bodily off Recline, just lifting him off his pedes and shaking him, like a terrier with a rat. "You will not," the gestalt leader snarled, a hollow boom of a command that rumbled through Breakdown like thunder. Something was wrong with Recline's audials, sounds were muffled, distant, but he could *feel* that order through the soil and stone under his back.

A pair of pedes appeared in Recline's glitching field of vision. "He'll probably offline when we put him in that hidden cell, anyway," Dead End said, morosely.

"'That mean we can finish busting him up?" asked Wildrider, eagerly. He'd never gotten his claws in a pleasure berth before. He wondered if all that fancy metalogel was flammable.

"No." Motormaster dropped Breakdown. The frontliner crashed down, staggering, but righted himself with satisfactory speed. He was also, the gestalt leader couldn't help but note, no longer shaking - at least not badly. The semi turned his optics on Dead End and Wildrider. "Get the trailer. Bring it here."

"Awww!" both bots protested, but complied at Motormaster's snarl, apparently unwilling to risk his wrath. The semi turned back to where Drag Strip waited, apparently certain that his orders would be obeyed.

Recline wasn't nearly so certain. Breakdown stood still for a moment, apparently reviewing the files the berthformer had uploaded. Then he approached Recline again, kicked a little at the prone mech's bullet-punctured thigh. "T-think you're gonna get your claws in me again, yeah? You better think twice, coder," he hissed.

"I'm sorry," Recline tried to say through a haze of pain worse than anything he'd felt, even in his long vorns on the streets before taking up with Sparkwire. His vocalizer would only produce static, too many of its wires disconnected and sparking. Other holes and great gashes in his mesh armor just burned, or crackled at the edges with misdirected charge. He could feel the protometal-laced metalogel openly seeping out. "S...sorry..."

Recline lifted his head. It felt heavy, like his tensors had lost power, weren't quite linked up right. A songbird, startled from its perch, fled with chirps of alarm. Something stirred between the trees again, settling, and if Recline hadn't been so... so tired, he never would have noticed it. But injured as he was, there was little to do but watch, while the Stunticons traded insults behind him. Willowy-thin aspens bent and bowed in a wind, as if they were being pushed aside.

There was no wind.

Recline wasn't quite sure, later, how he moved so fast. He came up on his pedes and lunged, catching Breakdown around the waist. He couldn't even shout at the frontliner to get down, not with his vocalizer shooting sparks. He felt the shot more than heard it, felt the massive metal slug split the air over his helm as both he and Breakdown hit the ground hard. It'd been aimed for the Decepticon's chest, and after all Recline had done to soothe that tortured spark, he'd be smelted before he'd see the newspark extinguished!

"Recline, you slagging glitch!" he heard someone yell. Someone with Gear's voice.

Then Motormaster was bellowing at the Stunticons to attack and all hell broke lose.


	11. Breaking Down Part 3

**Title:** Breaking Down Part III  
**Authors:** fractalserpent and Femme4jack  
**Fandom:** G1 AU (Recline the Berthformer)  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters/Relationships:** Recline(OC)/First Aid, Recline (OC)/Breakdown, Gears, Huffer, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Stunticons, Protectobots, Skyfire, Aerialbots, Wheeljack, Soundwave, Ravage, Laserbeak

**Content: Battle violence, semi-explicit intimacy (pnp, field, spark-play, kissing), angst**

* * *

"Stunticons, attack!" Motormaster bellowed. All five of the warframes charged, crashing into the trees where the shot had come from, firing. Recline could hear Gears screaming at someone to fall back, and then the minibot's vocalizer abruptly cut out. Oh Primus, was he injured? Deactivated?

Recline tried to lift his head-but the effort of first tackling, and then being thrown by the heavy-plated warrior had damaged him further. "Minibot trophies for the wall!" Wildrider shouted with glee. "I want the orange one's spark chamb-what the frag?!"

His optics damaged and dim, Recline felt more than heard several rounds of projectiles whistle overhead. The impacts, however, were surprisingly subdued-tiny clangs against armor, sizzling sounds followed by outraged bellows. Acid pellets? Before he could try to pinpoint the noise, it changed again, the sizzle of the projectiles followed this time by the crackling WHOOMP of plasma blasts, roaring from what seemed to be a different direction.

The Stunticons returned fire, and Recline lost track of the battle, his audials pummelled by a multitude of concussive booms and bellows. There was the sickeningly familiar clang of metal hewing metal as the firefight turned into a melee, the shuddering thud of pedes against the earth on which he lay. And yet, he found it hard to care, drifting off into darkness.

A deafening crack of thunder brought him back. A field of grey static flashed, his optics fritzing as they tried to focus, and he realized he was staring at the dawn-lit sky. At some point he had rolled, perhaps trying to move further toward the trees, and was now on his back. Something white was flashing through the grey. Around it flared a golden halo, bright yellow flickers that kept shorting out his delimited field of vision.

Recline reset his optics, forcing overrides through damaged internals, and they cleared momentarily. There was more than just the sky above him, he realized. Skyfire hovered there, a massive white guardian, his shields deflecting the multitude of blasts aimed at the broad white expanse of his underside. Recline's vision flickered-it was, he thought dimly, almost like watching an old earth movie. He watched the battle numbly, feeling as though his spark was shrouded in a thick blanket, everything muted and distant. A rotary emerged from Skyfire's cargo bay, dodging the Stunticons' blasts, deflecting them with bright flares of energy-consumptive shielding as it dropped toward the ground. Then four other figures followed, flinging themselves out as well. They plunged downward in a desperate freefall, unable to avoid the blasts in their direction, their speed barely checked by the rotary who preceded them, blades beating the air to slow their fall. They landed heavily, crashing to the ground in a tight cluster at the far end of the clearing. The effect of their arrival on the Stunticons was immediate.

"Stunticons! Form Menasor!" Motormaster roared from somewhere behind him.

Recline had seen Menasor combine before, in vids, in his patients' memory files. The gestalt was always ponderous, sluggish, all but a sliver of its conjoined memory and processing facilities obviously devoted simply to staying linked together and functional. The least temptation provoked Menasor's rage, led him astray, distracted his rampages. The Menasor gestalt was fickle, chaotic, and largely ineffective.

This was not that Menasor. Recline was able to shift his helm just enough to watch in horror as a very different Menasor locked smoothly together, five mecha becoming one in a seamless and brutally graceful dance. A change had been made, a cache of code optimized. Some vital threshold had been crossed, like soldiers over the Rubicon - and there was no going back.

And this reborn behemoth was charging toward Defensor, who was rising slowly, far too slowly, from the ground where the Protectobots had plummeted. Charging toward Recline's friends, his _lover_.

What had he done?

Menasor roared, harnessing the conjoined vocalizers of his constituent parts. A pede the size of Recline's entire body thundered down beside him, crushing the grass, the soil, the wildlife. Suddenly Sunstreaker was there, a blur of yellow to Recline's damaged optics. He launched himself bodily at the giant, clamping on to shoot point blank at what had always been the weakest of Menasor's links, where the left leg joined his massive pelvis. This time, however, the monstrous mech moved far faster than Recline had ever seen. He contemptuously grabbed Sunstreaker, throwing him aside with one hand. The other swatted away a slug that came from the other direction, calculations as fast as physics. "AUTOBOTS! MENASOR WILL CRUSH YOU ALL!"

The gestalt's dialogue, at least, was no more clever than before.

Menasor's right arm, in Drag Strip's colors, transformed, an energon blade longer than Recline's entire body folding outward. The edges blossomed with heat, a violent, plasma-coil red, and droplets of liquified steel hissed from the tip, fell like metal tears. And with a single sweep, Menasor brought it crashing down upon on the still unsteady Defensor.

"No!" Recline gasped, fingers clawing into the soil, trying to push himself up. Defensor staggered backwards, firing a series of blasts that only seemed to bounce off the roaring, snarling Decepticon gestalt. Menasor's blade rose again, intent on cleaving Defensor's left arm from his body.

Something else landed in Recline's field of vision, a flurry of armor and pedes and dizzy colors. It fired a concussive cannon at Menasor's back at point blank range, a blast of heat and thunder, even as Defensor's left arm suddenly detached on its own accord. Transforming into an ambulance, First Aid raced around Menasor and between between Skyfire's massive pedes, towards Recline.

Overhead, the crack of more sonic booms and the slow motion, deeper echo of a gestalt transformation happening in the sky above. Menasor was firing wildly, but could not stop the deafening roar of thrusters as Superion landed to hem him in. "MENASOR! SUPERION WILL VANQUISH YOU!"

Then deft and gentle hands were on him, and a field swamped his own with a desperate mixture of gratitude and anxiety as First Aid began frantically patching the ruptures in his frame, stemming the leaking energon and metalogel.

"I'm going to take you offline," First Aid said.

"P-please," Recline tried to say, but his vocalizer was still damaged, shorting out. His comms were also down. In desperation he tried to extend a communications cable. The wounds torn in his frame spat a shower of sparks, the electrical cascade deflecting harmlessly off First Aid's armor.

First Aid steadily found an operating medical uplink, and plugged in.

/_You're going to be okay, Recline. Just have to stabilize you for transport-_/

/_Aid, please don't let them kill them. They're just newsparks. Just like you... your brothers... the Aerials. No one to guide them. Please... Aid. Please._/ Recline knew he sounded incoherent, frantic and babbling. But he still continued to try.

He felt First Aid's hesitation, the understanding washing through his field... and the conviction that right now all he could do was focus on saving his patient.

/_Please Aid!_/ In desperation, Recline tried to sit up. Damaged metal tore, conduits ripped apart, sparks showering outward as the patch First Aid was trying to put over the protoform-deep gash in his chestplates ripped free.

He tried to shout, to scream in denial as a silent apology washed through First Aid's field. Then, like a switch being thrown, he dropped into darkness.

* * *

His field sensor array came online first. As usual, the array seemed to bypass processors entirely and shunted the input directly to his spark. He felt the spin and pulse of his spark adjust accordingly, meshing his own field with practiced ease to the familiar one that waited alongside his berth.

Familiar... but not the one he expected. That did not stop him from sending warm tendrils to lazily dance through the other's field while the remainder of his systems onlined. Recline felt almost deliriously grateful to be able to do so, though was unsure why.

His most recent segments of temporary memory storage were locked and not yet integrated with his spark-based quantum storage, though they were flagged with a key. He was in medical, then. Temporary medical blocks were standard practice after particularly severe injuries or trauma, and helped alleviate the tendency of panic upon onlining. That way patients could access the memories once they were ready to integrate them properly, usually after they'd been briefed on what to expect. Recline had certainly assisted enough mecha over the vorns with that very task, soothing and comforting as the trauma was reprocessed and the emotive content already written on the spark formed the necessary connections with the relevant data.

He ran a systems check, followed swiftly by a deeper diagnostic, using the medical protocols native to berthformer coding. Fully a third of his mesh armor had been replaced, the new sections forming jagged seems, not yet fully integrated into his existing mesh. He was desperately low on metalogel, a large portion of his gel-mass replaced with temporary protometal filler. His nanites were working furiously to culture replacement gel using... using a core protometal infusion? Primus, what had happened? Deeper scans of the foreign protometal mass in his core identified at least half a dozen separate donors. Some of the nanites had already been stripped of their originating code as they were transformed by the berthformer's systems, he noted; there might have been even more. Primus! What a risk for them to take, especially when the Decepticons could engage them at any time. Omega Supreme, Skyfire, and the unique blended signature of Superion made up the bulk of the donated protometal, with smaller amounts from the largest frontliners who could better afford the loss.

Recline reviewed the most recent of his unlocked logs. He'd been on a walk within the perimeter with Samwise, collecting materials for amulets and energon infusions. Then...

Oh. Oh dear. No wonder the remainder of the log was locked.

He was ridiculously fortunate to be functioning. Oh Primus, he hoped there'd been no casualties involved in a rescue. Yes, it would be best to wait to integrate those locked files. He had a feeling that it would not be wise to attempt to handle them without a monitor.

He reached out again, intertwining more thoroughly with the still patiently-waiting field, and then began to online the remainder of his systems.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a cheery voice greeted him. Recline did not need to boot his optics to know Wheeljack's indicators were flashing a content pattern of indigo and ultraviolet.

Ratchet, Hoist and First Aid, then, had likely shut down for much-needed recharge. If they'd been elsewhere, working on other mecha who'd been damaged in this confrontation, there would have been more anxiety in the engineer's field.

Recline booted his vocalizer, noting that the majority of its wiring and components were brand new, with distinctive earth-specific molecular traces.

"Is everyone okay, Wheeljack?" Recline asked, the new vocalizer operating as proficiently as the medic who'd built it, taking those raw materials and manufacturing the the parts within his frame - leaving his own distinct patterns and motifs in the process. Would a Ratchet-incubated vocalizer make his glyphs a bit more... colorful?

"They are, now that you're back online, Recline," Wheeljack responded, patting him on the arm, the Brooklyn accent he'd adopted almost as much a comfort as his mellow field.

"Any injuries besides mine?" Recline asked, deliberately slowing the spin of his spark and running a calming algorithm. Normally calming, anyway. For some reason, now it made him feel anxious, like he should be remembering something.

The engineer pulled up a stool and sat, leaning his elbows on the berth next to Recline's head, propping his helm on his interlaced hands. He knew better than to hold anything back. "It was a close call with Huffer 'n Gears, though not as close as it was for you, mind ya. They... well, you'll be integratin' that memory soon enough. They saw you was hurt and engaged the Stunticons before backup arrived, poor slaggers. Prowl took some heavy blows, but he's back on duty, minus a left sensor panel that's finishin' up assemblin' in the tank. Sunstreaker had enough dents to be a complete bastard. Hot Spot's got an armor-deep souvenir from Menasor 'cross his chest, but he's healin' up just fine."

Recline nodded, onlining his optics at last and reaching out to take one of the engineer's hands, needing the touch of metal as well as fields. Thank Primus they all were okay. "You going to monitor me while I integrate this, my friend?" he asked quietly. He was already well aware of the extent of his injuries, and their likely source, as well as the tender, exacting care that had gone into what was essentially a partial rebuild. Primus, they didn't have the resources for that. Not for a noncombatant, with absolutely zero military function, who was as protometal dense and complex as Recline.

"Well, that's just the thing, Recline. First Aid is insistin' it should be him. Ratchet and Hoist are divided on that. He... it's gonna be hard on him to see it first hand. But he feels like it would be best for ya both to do it together. So we decided it should be your call. If ya want it to be him, though, you'll have to wait a few days."

"I'm sure he's exhausted," Recline agreed.

"Like that would stop him. You'll have to wait for him 'n his team to get outta the brig's what I mean."

"What?!" Recline's field surged with shock before he could suppress the wild fluxuations.

Wheeljack's indicators danced with a mixture of mirth and concern. "Yeah. Seems Defensor, minus his left arm who was workin' furiously on you at the time, disobeyed a direct order to subdue Menasor. Or... at least he tried to disobey, except his _right_ arm started objectin' furiously to that, which caused him to come apart and allowed Menasor to escape anyhow. First Aid claims he was directin' Defensor's actions at the time, using his medical overrides. He said he couldn't get ya fully into stasis otherwise. His sentence was delayed 'til all the repairs were done, of course. His team, as you can imagine, insists on being there with him."

Recline couldn't explain the immense relief that filled his spark at the recounting of Menasor's escape. Not without the accompanying memory segments. Just like he couldn't explain the myriad of other emotions that seemed to surround every mention of the Stunticon team. Not... the dread he would expect. Though that was there as well. But clearly he had held at least one of them in his recharging embrace during his captivity. Otherwise he would not feel so... concerned and connected.

Wheeljack gripped Recline's hand a little tighter in reassurance, sensing his confusion.

"To tell ya the truth, Recline, I think half the reason they gave him the sentence in the first pace was to get the whole team to slow down a bit 'n get some rest. They've responded to three disasters in the past month without a break. Four if ya count Menasor. Otherwise I'm sure Aid'd be here now."

Recline nodded, offlining his optics for a moment to consider his options. He needed those memories. There was no true reason to wait, and he had nothing to do at the moment but to heal. But he wanted... needed to feel First Aid's field in his own, to mold his softer armor to First Aid's angles with an urgency that didn't make sense at the moment. Not that he would be doing much molding until his metalogel had regenerated. "First Aid's your creation, too. Do you think he should do this with me?"

Wheeljack considered the question, his free hand moved to lightly trace the still-healing gashes in Recline's mesh armor, before coming to a rest over the largest injury.

"First Aid's... as affected by this as I've ever seen him, Recline. Primus knows, kid's a deep feeler even on the best of days. Not that it ever impacts his professionalism, mind ya. Let me ask ya a different question. What if the situation was the opposite?"

Recline processed that, his field mingling even more deeply with Wheeljack's to assure the engineer of just how much his creation, and that entire team, meant to him. "I'd want to be there for him," he said a moment later. "I'll wait 'til he's out of the brig. Probably should recharge more while this metalogel cultures anyhow."

"Wish I could be a berth for you to charge on, Recline," Wheeljack said, leaning down to touch helms, his field buzzing with affection. "Hmm... I wonder if I could..."

"Don't you dare," Recline said, laughing. "It wouldn't end well for either of us!"

* * *

Wildlife had returned to the clearing when Soundwave touched down, engines blasting soil and debris from the torn earth. Trees were broken and smashed for a quarter filum in every direction, boulders marred with great gouges or torn from their stony moorings. The destruction revealed a hidden bounty for many animals - songbirds plucked long worms from the churned soil, larger creatures sieved through the dirt in hope of a meal of buried nestlings.

Perhaps, with luck, Soundwave could uncover a similar prize.

The carrier's chestplates slid open, releasing the tight-folded forms of two cassettes. Transforming midair, the two set about their search without need for direction. Laserbeak's scans set to detect traces left by the battle, Ravage's long, wiry sensors pricked forward.

The orn had not gone well. Menasor was restored... for the moment. Megatron was far too pleased to begrudge the battered gestalt the medical attention they required. And Soundwave... well. He was clearly not to have Breakdown to reprogram, as he had planned. And the pleasureberth had succeeded more thoroughly than Soundwave could even have calculated - so while Motormaster did technically owe Soundwave a single favor, it was not the long term servitude Soundwave had anticipated. As pleased as Megatron was, chances were good that Soundwave's blackmail was of little use to him now - the Lord High Protector would not care how this repair had come about, even if it had been at the hands of the Autobots' pampered plaything.

Still... still. Ratbat reported that Breakdown's verbal and physical tics had increased six percent over the last orn. Motormaster, no fool, was silent about the exact nature of Breakdown's repairs. But Soundwave would wager his upper left datacable that the patch the berth had applied, whatever its nature, was temporary. Potentially... quite temporary.

The Stunticons would need the berth again.

They'd probably intended to keep the berth, to judge by the little oubliette they'd prepared in secret - as if they could conceal such a thing from Soundwave's audials. Clearly, they hadn't expected the vigor of the Autobots' response.

And now the Stunticons had lost their pleasure berth.

Motormaster would grow desperate, soon. And desperate mecha were so much easier to bargain with.

Ravage pinged a qualified success, and Soundwave glanced up. The big bladeframe trotted back over the broken ground, something held between his teeth.

Laserbeak landed neatly on his shoulder as Soundwave reached to take the discovery, Ravage dropping it into his palm. The bladeframe sat close beside Soundwave's leg, the flail of his tailtip curling around his pedes, while the carrier stroked away the dirt and organic debris that clung to Ravage's chassis.

Laserbeak twisted his shining neck, examining the device as well. In truth, it looked like nothing more than a buried stone. /_An emergency beacon?_/ he asked, testing the unusual resonance of the bit of metal.

/_More than that,_/ said Soundwave, turning it over in his hands.

How very, very interesting.

This had _possibilities_.

* * *

Spike Witwicky had once suffered from unmanly giggles for nearly an hour when he found out that Recline had a berth of his own, and how much effort Recline put into making it an especially comfortable one. "It's like Optimus Prime driving a truck," he said when he could get words out.

Recline's nonsentient berth was covered in a rich array of especially sturdy, yet comfortable earth materials he'd collected over the years - a delightful combination of sand and silicone-filled cushions covered with thick, sturdy fabrics threaded with conductive accents. The Cybertronian version of a murphy bed that slid out of the wall of his quarters/office was one of Huffer's ever-practical yet artistic creations. The engineer did far more than complain.

Not everyone who recharged with Recline wanted to do so on the berthformer. Some preferred to recharge under him, or next to him. Even some who liked to be on top of the berthformer did so in a manner that might have surprised the young Witwicky.

The current occupant of Recline's berth was indeed carefully on top of him, supporting most of his weight with his arms and one knee. His surgical mask retracted for a rather relentless and desperate barrage of zapping, glossa-twining, tingly kisses that made sparks fly in more ways than one.

First Aid, it seemed, had several overloads on the treatment plan before they actually talked about the memories he'd assisted Recline with integrating. Recline felt no need to hurry that along, no need to do anything other than make love with complete abandon to the mech who anchored him and whom he anchored. And oh how he loved the human expression, 'making love' as their chests and cores opened just enough to allow containment fields to blossom outward, aurae tendrils licking tempered armor and mesh.

With their fields polarized and flaring bright against one another, they slid along each other's core energies like water, and oh how tempting it was to reverse the polarity and simply sink in and become deeply and profoundly one.

Not yet... it was still too soon, even now. But a desperate need for that completion had replaced the relaxed patience and simple giddy delight that had marked the previous season of their courtship.

There was no giddiness, no play at the moment. Cables deeply set, they flooded one another with feeling even as desperately reaching sparks strobed like pulsars, spinning in synchronicity. _Love you...love you...almost lost you...want you deeper...closer...deeper...a part of me...love you...mine...yes!...part of others but still mine...love you...almost lost you...almost lost us...have you now...have us now_.

With an audible crack, overload took them, sparks flaring beyond containment for an instant, outer coronae briefly touching, and foxfire dancing over their frames and along the conductive threads of the cushions.

* * *

Recline couldn't recharge. Rather than drifting into shutdown in the pleasant buzz of several overloads, he found himself cycling up, having to focus on keeping his field serene so as not to disturb First Aid's light rest.

"Don't you dare," First Aid murmured as Recline began to slip out of the berth. "And quit smoothing your field for me. You're supposed to be upset by this."

Recline tensed. There was too much too feel. Too much to process. Despite himself, it began to pour into his field, like water spilling over the top of a dam.

"Talk to me, or show me," First Aid urged him gently.

"I don't want... I can't," Recline whispered.

"You need to," First Aid's arms tightened around him carefully, mindful of the patches and lack of proper gel.

Recline whimpered, shuttering his optics, his field swirling with what he tried to hold so tight in his spark. "Menasor could have killed you, or one of your brothers. Or Huffer, or Gears, or any of them! He's so much more powerful now, because I helped his weak link. I... oh Primus Aid, he was hurting so much. And I helped him, more than I should've, and now others could get hurt or die because I did."

First Aid nodded, not trying to deny Recline's words. Recline drew a heavy vent, and continued. "And then... to have done it at all, Aid. He gave no consent. He was forced to my platform as surely as Motormaster has forced everything else since he onlined. I don't... I don't know if I was helping him, or saving my own mesh, or some fragged up combination. And knowing what he will face, what future he has? Would it have been kinder to do nothing at all and hope he offlined from the glitch?"

Recline buried his helm into First Aid's neck, listening to the rush of coolant and energon, the smooth whoosh of finely tuned hydraulics and the deeper hum of his spark. A high keen escaped the berthformer, from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Oh Recline," First Aid began, but Recline shook his helm and keened again, a questing cable seeking First Aid's socket when he couldn't speak.

What if Menasor, or Breakdown on his own, took out First Aid someday? What if he lost this?

And what about the day that could so easily come when someone he cared for took down the tormented newsparks Megatron had made.

Recline was a liability, to all of them.

"Don't you dare," First Aid said fiercely, in something as close to a growl as he was capable of. "You are _not_ a liability. Optimus Prime needs you, and don't even get me started on the others."

Recline tried to suppress the glyphs that floated through his processors. Harsh words that had been said when he'd first enlisted, or far, far earlier, during the vorns on the streets before he'd taken up with Sparkwire. Things he normally did not allow to impact his steady field.

_Pampered toy. Towers plaything. Waste of energon and protometal. Part of the problem that got Cybertron into this mess_.

"You are a medic," First Aid said, gripping his still healing mesh where he knew it would not hurt. "Do not ever doubt what you are to us, how much we need you. Do you think it's accident that Motormaster took you? There are some kinds of damage I can't help with, and even Ratchet can't fix, and yet you do so, over and again. We need you Recline. And poor Breakdown needed you, even if he's too glitched to know it. And I need you. Primus... when I got that comm, Recline. I... I just couldn't..."

Recline's field was instantly meshing with his, his spark intent on soothing, comforting, absorbing First Aid's sudden wash of grief.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you," First Aid sobbed.

"You are," Recline choked out of the static, spark spinning a bubble of peace around them out of sheer will. "Believe me, you are."

* * *

The first time Motormaster ordered the remainder of their team out of their quarters, Breakdown cringed and shook, waiting for the beating and systems violation to begin.

"That berth left you something. You have a half-joor, once an orn, to use it, understand?" the massive mech rumbled lowly. Then he wheeled around and left as well, the dented and much abused door stuttering closed behind him.

Breakdown waited, trembling, wondering when Motormaster would return, when the plundering of his systems would begin. At precisely a half joor, the gestalt leader did, indeed did come back, along with the rest of the team. Motormaster said nothing other than to order them all to go drill on the sparring deck.

"I'll know if you haven't been using it," Motormaster warned the second time. "Every time we combine, and when you can't recharge. Fail to use it, and I'll assume you'd rather I capture that slagging berth again and keep him, or have Soundwave take care of things. Understand?"

Breakdown did. But he could not quite bring himself to trust that the blissful, silent time would go uninterrupted.

The third time Ramjet had indeed interrupted him, looking for Wildrider, and the entire team fragged the conehead up good in retaliation.

After that, Breakdown began to believe that the time would, indeed be his and his alone. He hated whatever that pathetic Autobot had left in his systems. But... it did give him a half joor with only himself for company.

If he didn't use the time for what Motormaster intended, he could lose that.

The fifth time he was left alone, Breakdown spat a venomous curse and opened the file he had already examined backward and forward. With another curse, he executed it, swearing that if did anything other than what the tag said it would, he'd carve the Autobot apart until there was nothing left but metal shavings.

The file blossomed open around him, petals of data spreading out in fractal recursions. Ancient data patterns, last glimpsed by mecha long before Cybertron's fall, when there were no factions, when Cybertron stood strong and undivided.

And, one step at a time, Breakdown followed the fractals down to a place where everything was still.

_End of this segment of Recline's tales. More to come  
_

* * *

_Notes_

Thank you to HopeofDawn for lending her editorial excellence, and to fractalserpent for unstalling this with encouragement, prompts, and awesome co-writing.

Recline recently made a guest appearance in Hope and fractal's outstanding Sound and Fury series, in chapter 5 of Oratorio on Ao3 (archiveofourown dot org / works / 447234 / chapters / 944499 /).


	12. Familiar

**Title:** Familiar  
**Fandom:** G1 AU (Recline the Berthformer)  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters/Pairings:** First Aid/Recline, Daniel Witwicky, Hot Rod, Metroplex  
**Summary:**

**Content: Fluff, angst, the aftermath of a common childhood injury, medical procedures**

**Notes:**Very late birthday fic for Playswithworms who asked for "Older Daniel (either still kid or grown up) from Recline-verse requires hugs from First Aid and wonders why it feels so...familiar?". This story is directly related to Colic and takes place about seven years after the events of Breaking Down. I'm also using this to set up elements that will get explored in WIP thank you gift fics for White Aster and Riddian. Hope you two enjoy the little sneak peek!

* * *

As much as First Aid understood about human behavior and health, it was still a shock to return from what felt like a relatively short tour of duty off-planet, only to encounter an active, articulate, and thoroughly busy eight-year-old boy where a toddler had just been.

First Aid knew that six years away would bring many changes. He could catalog them in detail just from visual scans. But he wasn't prepared for the tight feeling in his spark when faced with this reality: that seven point seven percent of the average American human male's lifespan had passed in what felt like a spark-flicker.

First Aid had been coded to be able to better cope with the ephemeral nature of organic life than many of his elders. That still did not make it easy. And considering just how short a human's span was, the normal phenomenon of childhood amnesia seemed especially cruel - though just to whom it was cruel might be up for debate.

Daniel, who'd been two when the Protectobots had left, had no conscious memories of First Aid, who had carried him in an attached incubator for his first several months of life after his extremely premature birth. Nor any memories of how the medic had regularly cared for him thereafter. First Aid thought he had prepared himself for that- right up until the moment when Daniel quickly said 'hi' to Autobot City's latest 'newcomers' and then scampered off to find something more interesting. What could a pacifist medic and the rest of a search and rescue team have to offer when there were Dinobots around? Or the other newly arrived team that referred to themselves as the Wreckers?

"He hasn't forgotten you," Recline said softly, suddenly just behind him, field surrounding and meshing with his in perfect ease.

"Actually... I'm certain he has," First Aid said, trying to sound matter-of-fact as his brothers smiled indulgently at them and went on their way to their own reunions. "Most humans, by the time they are seven or eight, have only the sketchiest memories between ages two and five, and nothing before then."

"Trust me, he hasn't forgotten you. He just hasn't had a chance to remember yet." Recline's arms slipped around First Aid's shoulders, his yielding frame automatically shaping itself to the contours of First Aid's backplates. He rested soft hands over broad chestplates, feeling the constant, subtle hum of incubating parts and fabrication within. Even when First Aid rested, he was never truly at rest.

"Primus, I've missed you," First Aid said softly, sinking back into the comforting embrace of Recline's soft mesh armor.

"I've cleared my schedule for the next forty-eight hours, and I'm fully charged. I also know for a fact you and your brothers are off duty until the debriefing on Monday. You want to see my new quarters? Metroplex keeps surprising me with added features."

"Should I be jealous?" First Aid teased, turning and nuzzling in.

"Hardly. It's not in your nature, dearspark. Nor in mine," Recline said, leaning to rest his silver forehelm atop the red one. "I am looking forward to the two of you getting acquainted... or reacquainted, I suppose. You and Metroplex are going to adore one another. But not today. Today you're mine."

"When did you develop a possessive subroutine?" First Aid teased again, taking Recline's hand and pulling him toward the more quiet northwest entrance. If they went through the main thoroughfare, it would be an hour before they made it to those promised quarters.

"Ever since I spent every second of the last six years missing you," Recline said, freeing his field from the normal filters and shields and letting the depth of that yearning wash straight through to First Aid's spark.

"Oh dear," First Aid stumbled slightly under the sudden onslaught of emotion, and his own response to it. "We'd better hurry."

* * *

First Aid clicked softly to himself as he rearranged the medbay supplies to his satisfaction, making a list of what needed to be fabricated and replenished. It was obvious Ratchet had taken everything he could carry, and First Aid had packed many of the other crates to be transported by Omega Supreme. Ratchet had clearly been anticipating a high number of significant repairs, and the very thought of those repairs, and what might lead to them, made First Aid's spark flare unhappily.

First Aid's creators had departed the previous day with Optimus and a crack team from the original Ark crew, all headed for Cybertron's moon bases and other locations in that system. Once there they would join Ironhide, Jazz, and Prowl. Perhaps they would join Elita and her team as well, though her location was never discussed.

Everyone's field was abuzz with tension and excitement about what the mission meant. Speculation was rampant that Optimus intended to retake Cybertron, though what the timeline was, no one knew. First Aid could not help but fret and worry, so he channeled the energy into inventory and organization of the domain that was, for now, his own to tend. He hoped not to need most of the items he arranged in Metroplex's shifting, mobile compartments, though he doubted that would be the case. Whether on Earth or Cybertron, the lull in the war was only that. A lull.

Metroplex would be able to fabricate much of what was currently missing in his own incubators; the cityformer responded with his usual gracious aplomb as First Aid worked through his inventory lists and transmitted requests for replacements. But some of the raw supplies would need to requested from the humans, and the more complex spare parts would have to be fabricated within First Aid's own frame.

First Aid absently took another bite of the thick metallic braid Carly referred to as 'medic jerky' in preparation, dentae shearing through the wires and flaked silica additives. On their own, medic sticks didn't supply sufficient minerals to fully fuel a wartime medic, but Metroplex had already adjusted the dispenser in First Aid's quarters, adulterating the fuel with iron, silver, lithium, and other useful metals that dissolved well in energon.

First Aid never could have predicted how inherently right it would feel to live within a sparked being, to work within a sentient medical bay. On the return trip, he and his brothers had all speculated whether it would seem strange or, in Blades's words, 'bolt-bat creepy'. Instead, it just felt... good and normal... somewhere deep in his spark. Of course, Cybertron was a gigantic sparked being, if the legends were true. So maybe they were meant to feel right living within another mech.

First Aid wondered, too, if the fact that Metroplex had kept his and his brothers' sparks - along with a dozen others - safely in stasis for an unknown length of time had influenced his own perceptions. First Aid, of course, had no memory files of the time prior to onlining with the frame and coding Wheeljack, Hoist, and Ratchet had created for him. From the logs and records, First Aid understood that the Ark's crew had discovered Metroplex drifting just beyond the solar system shortly after coming out of stasis themselves, and had quickly discovered that the vast Cityformer wasn't alone. None of the Autobots were sure whether the sparks Metroplex had kept alive within his own massive core were new ones, smuggled off Cybertron early in the war for safekeeping, or were those of Metroplex's remaining residents, kept alive the only way the cityformer was finally able. Metroplex himself couldn't remember vast stretches of time, something Recline was working regularly with him to remedy.

First Aid vented, briefly offlining his visor. Inventorying and sorting always seemed to put him in an introspective mood. Better than fretting about his creators and friends, he supposed.

::_First Aid,_:: Metroplex's comm gently intruded on his thoughts.

"Yes, Metroplex?" First Aid responded aloud. Recline thought that it pleased Metroplex when his residents found small ways to acknowledge that they were within a living being, and First Aid agreed, though it was extremely difficult to read the cityformer's deliberately muted field. Metroplex was so very careful to be unobtrusive.

::_Hot Rod is on his way with Daniel. The child has injured his arm, and his creators are away. His vital signs are within acceptable parameters, but the injury may be very painful, judging by Daniel's response. Ratchet usually requested the human physician attend to such matters, but Dr. Hunnicutt is at a conference. Shall I call in her backup?_::

"No, I'll take care of Daniel," First Aid said firmly, mentally rehearsing the scathing report he would personally make to whoever's idea it had been to let that reckless frontliner watch over an eight-year-old human child. Hot Rod had only recently arrived, along with the rest of Ultra Magnus's team, from a long campaign fighting to retake several key Autobot bases and strongholds in the colonial systems closest to Cybertron. It was one of those same colonies First Aid and his brothers had been assigned to help evacuate after the Decepticons had purposefully destabilized the planet's core as a parting gift. Word was that many on Magnus's team were not particularly pleased at having been recalled to a defensive rather than offensive mission, viewing their commander's new assignment as city-commander an insult rather than a commendation. Blades and Springer had come to blows over a comment that had been made over the relative worth of the humans and the world the Protectobots called 'home'.

First Aid paused for a moment. He was becoming unreasonably upset, anger at Hot Rod flooding his emotive streams even though he was not aware of how the accident had happened. It was just not like him to be _this_ angry and unsettled, especially before he had any real data on the situation. And he certainly understood it took mecha - at least those who hadn't been coded and designed as he and his brothers had - time to adjust to being on Earth, and the nature of their organic allies. Even Blades sometimes struggled with it... though Primus help anyone who insulted the humans or Earth within his audioshot.

Was Ratchet's absence causing him to activate a bit more of his creator's temper? Running through one of Recline's quickest fractal relaxation patterns, First Aid returned to his attention to where it belonged.

"Metroplex, can you tell me anything about the nature of the injury?" First Aid asked, even as the cityformer shifted the compartment of human supplies forward, and transformed a suitable platform for Daniel atop a medical berth.

::_The support strut just above his elbow joint appears to be broken, and there is a great deal of dark swelling in tissue around that area. He was climbing on a restricted area that I have not yet populated with my nanites, much less any protometal tendrils, so I did not notice, and Hot Rod did not catch him,_:: Metroplex explained. First Aid could not read his field well enough to know whether it was himself, Hot Rod, or both that the cityformer was upset with.

"Thank you, Metroplex," First Aid said, patting one of the walls he knew contained sensors. He then began subspacing the supplies he would need from the cabinet, leaving it open for easy access if he required something additional. Broken bones were simple enough to fix, and a human child's ability to mend bone was impressive, though it took time. He loaded the appropriate sedatives, painkillers, and anti-infective and -inflammatory agents into his smallest line injectors, and set one of his wire-spoolers to an alloy safe for humans in case the bone needed additional support to keep it in place.

First Aid heard both the roar of Hot Rod's engine, and, amazingly, the muffled sounds of Daniel howling before Metroplex had even slid open the large entrance to the medical ward. Those noises increased exponentially as Hot Rod burnt not-rubber, screeching through the door in perfect imitation of his designation. First Aid bristled as the frontliner transformed and shifted the wailing child to his chest with far less care than seemed appropriate. If Daniel had taken any more damage on that wild ride...

The screams made First Aid's spark constrict and throb. While Daniel's vocal folds had matured, First Aid could still hear the infant in those wails, a sound that seemed to be indelibly inscribed on the crystalline matrix within his spark chamber.

Perhaps it was the sound of those cries, or the awkward angle and dark bruising at the joint on the tiny arm, or the sheer power of the irrational anger he felt toward Hot Rod that kick-started First Aid's triage protocols, firmly shunting emotive streams to his sub-processors. The automatic protocols did not keep a medic from feeling, but prevented those feelings from interfering with medical functions. Emotions became distant and dim, as though First Aid's spark was partially disconnected from his processors. It felt as though his emotional processing streams were being run by someone else who was simply feeding him factual reports on their data.

It was a built-in failsafe that had certain risks and problems associated with it, but one absolutely necessary for fully framed medics who might have to work on bondmates, lovers, and friends. Those protocols were the reason why other mecha really began to worry when Ratchet quit cursing and chiding. It meant things were deadly serious.

First Aid was dimly aware, in his subprocessing stream, that he was shocked that the protocols had engaged in this situation. A very normal human injury was not what they were designed for.

Clearly, the change First Aid's field shocked Hot Rod, too, who froze as the medic gently removing the sobbing child from him. The change was simply supposed to make First Aid seem fully shielded... but frontliners who'd seen as much action as Ultra Magnus and his crew had would know what a suddenly flat field in a medic meant.

::_Oh Primus... oh frag, is it really that bad?_:: Hot Rod commed, his own field surging with worry, fear and shame. ::_Oh slagslagslag how will I ever explain this to Magnus? Why the frag did he order me to get to know the squishies? I broke him my first time... oh slag! They're gonna dismantle me!_::

Daniel wailed even louder, as though he could physically feel Hot Rod's worry and distress.

"You're going to be fine," First Aid stated with the cool calm of his battlefield self. He placed Daniel on the small berth, taking extreme care to support and not jostle the limply dangling arm. The berth automatically shaped itself to support the child and immobilize his arm. First Aid carefully grasped Daniel's wrist between manipulators that extended from two of his digits, as though taking a pulse. A burst of highly compressed air injected a painkiller into the Daniel's median antibrachial vein.

The child continued to sob and thrash.

First Aid simultaneously commed Hot Rod, hoping to calm and reassure him, though he was dimly aware that he was still furious with the mech. ::_He has a broken strut. I need to set it at the correct angle and his own self-healing systems will take care of the rest if it is kept relatively immobilized and protected. He'll be fine._::

It was obvious, however, that Hot Rod wasn't buying it, still hovering and on the edge of true panic.

First Aid scanned the fracture, cataloging it while he waited for the painkiller to take the edge off and help Daniel to calm down - a supracondylar humerus fracture, and a rather nasty one. It was a notoriously difficult bone to set properly; a human doctor would need to perform surgery. Fortunately, First Aid could 'see' the bone with his scanners to set it correctly and insert the needed wires without opening the arm.

"Oh Primus, kid, I'm so sorry," Hot Rod practically sobbed, his field throwing his distress over a wide radius. It seemed to rile Daniel further. The child was trying to pull his broken arm from the brace that held it, screaming with the pain that caused.

First Aid was going to have to send Hot Rod away and inject Daniel with a general anesthetic if he continued to struggle, something that was always risky for a human. Within the cool, methodical execution of his medical coding, he was dimly aware that he was part of the reason both were panicking. Yet, overriding his triage protocols was no easy matter, and not recommended given that they were a failsafe associated with his ability to successfully execute his function.

Could he trust that his unruly emotions would not interfere with a minor strut repair, even on someone as tiny and delicate as Daniel? What if he experienced a surge of emotions that made things even worse?

First Aid recalled that his emotion-muting protocols had activated several times during the first weeks after Daniel's far-too-early birth, during the instances when the tiny, premature newborn's life had nearly flickered out. Back then, Daniel's lungs were barely developed enough to let him whimper, much less howl as he was now.

First Aid took great pride in those lungs - or at least he did when his emotions were operating normally.

Briefly scanning his subprocessing streams, First Aid decided to take the risk of disengaging his triage protocols. Daniel clearly was highly sensitive to fields. Perhaps it was First Aid's own flat field that was impacting Daniel, even more than Hot Rod's distressed one. Was it possible that the child somehow retained memories of those moments when he'd been close to death, and First Aid's field had suddenly gone absent? It was a consideration First Aid would need to examine later.

He had to work around several firewalls that blocked his access to the failsafe, and then disengage his triage protocols entirely, at least for the moment. They were programmed to keep him in triage mode until he registered as off duty, and disengaging them was normally followed by a painful emotional backlash as his emotive streams rerouted to his primary processors.

He braced himself, and then activated the override.

The change in First Aid's field and processors was immediate, and fortunately, the backlash after such a short period was just a brief moment of vertigo. Fully registering Hot Rod's worry, First Aid loosened his field even more, so the frontliner would know beyond a doubt that while First Aid was upset to see Daniel in such pain, he was not truly worried.

::_Don't, ever, EVER do that to me again,_:: Hot Rod raged over comms, even as his own field relaxed minutely, though still flaring with renewed worry each time Daniel hiccuped a sob. First Aid transmitted a genuinely apologetic glyph, but otherwise kept his attention on his patient.

Daniel began to relax as well, far more quickly than Hot Rod, and far too fast for the painkiller to have fully taken effect. The boy's sobs slowed, and he sank into the berth. It was uncanny, how field-sensitive Danny was. First Aid had not encountered anything similar among the humans who regularly came into contact with the unique energies emitted by Cybertronian sparks.

Daniel certainly had been responsive to First Aid's in early infancy, though as he grew, that sensitivity had seemed to fade. First Aid filed that thought away for later examination, even as he unshielded his own field more.

::_Please try to relax,_:: First Aid calmly urged the frontliner. _::Your field may be upsetting him._:: He ignored Hot Rod's belligerent query of how an organic with no sensors to speak of could feel any mech's field.

Daniel's watery, bloodshot eyes were glued on First Aid. "Wh...where's Ratchet? Where's Dr. Hunnicutt?" he asked.

"Ratchet left yesterday, sweetspark, for Cybertron. Remember? With your dad and Bumblebee. And Dr. Hunnicutt is away today. I'm First Aid. I'm going to put your bones back in the right place, so your body can repair them. But first I'm going to make sure you can't feel any pain your arm, okay?"

"Okay, s'long as it doesn't hurt," Daniel said drowsily, as though First Aid had injected a sedative along with the painkiller. "I remember you. You just got here a few weeks ago. My mom said that you knew me when I was a baby. She said you're Recline's boyfriend. I like Recline. He's cozy."

"That's right," First Aid said warmly to the boy, filing away Hot Rod's subvocalized comment about useless, armorless pleasurebots to address later. It was an attitude that was, unfortunately, all too common among Autobots who had not been under Prime's direct command.

First Aid injected a local anesthetic just below Daniel's elbow, and then extended a neurofilament effortlessly through the soft dermal layers to the tissue within. The filament, once it narrowed and branched out among Daniel's nerve cells, would enable First Aid to block the firing of Daniel's pain receptors in that area. The boy didn't even appear to notice as First Aid softly chatted with him. "I knew you very well as a baby, and Recline and I are sparkmates - you know what that means?"

"Means you aren't bonded or cohort or anything like that... but you might want to be some day," Daniel said, the conversation clearly distracting and further relaxing him.

"That's right," First Aid said, isolating the correct frequency to block the pain receptors. "Okay Daniel, can you feel anything in this arm?"

Daniel thought for a moment. "It doesn't hurt at all anymore. Is it fixed?"

"Not yet, Danny, but I'm glad it's feeling better. I'm going to put the bone in the right place now, and I'll use tiny wires like this one to hold the bone together while it repairs itself. It won't hurt at all, but you may feel some pressure while I work." First Aid unsubspaced a length of the extremely thin wire and showed it to the child. First Aid had already infused the wiring in his spooler with nanite scavengers, which would harmlessly recycle the alloys once they were no longer needed, to be expelled through Daniel's normal waste elimination systems.

"You're going to put those wires... in his strut?" Hot Rod asked in a tone that was halfway between panic and awe.

::_If you upset him about it, I'll have to ask you to leave, Hot Rod,_:: First Aid commed, his tone gentle but firm, almost certain the frontliner would take the opportunity to get as far as possible away from the situation he'd helped to cause.

Hot Rod shot him a venomous look, but then did something that surprised the medic entirely. "Those are so cool, Danny. You're gonna have metal in your struts, just like me."

"Cool!" Daniel said, beaming, hero worship vivid in his expression. Something about it made First Aid feel a twinge of concern, but, like everything else not immediately connected with the injury, he'd deal with it later. His extenders narrowed to their smallest setting and painlessly made their way through layers of skin and tissue to the bones within.

"Yeah," Hot Rod continued, "I have wires that look just like those. But my struts have to be welded back together before they can self-repair."

First Aid let his thanks to Hot Rod wash through his field. Maybe Hot Rod was more mature than the medic gave him credit for, for all that the frontliner was a good deal older than himself.

"Can you weld my struts?" Daniel asked, looking up at First Aid.

"No, Daniel. I don't need to. Just like Hot Rod said, you have some awesome cells called osteoblasts that will regrow the bone at the break. Okay, I'm going to put the bones in the right place now. You may feel something like a gentle squeeze, but nothing will hurt."

First Aid used his manipulators to gently shift the broken portions of bone back to proper alignment. Daniels tensed at the pressure, and First Aid found himself sending waves of peaceful assurance through his field, just as he would with a mech.

Danny's mouth made a little O, and he looked around, and then underneath himself, confused.

"This doesn't look like Recline," he said, his good arm reaching to touch the platform on which he sat. His other arm was held immobile in a grip both implacable and gentle.

"It's not, Danny," First Aid said, his manipulators injecting and then threading the fine wires through the bone to hold the two parts together. "Just a medical berth. Do you want Recline to come? I could comm him."

Daniel looked even more confused. "I thought... but this berth just did the same thing Recline does."

First Aid paused his repair for a moment, turning a different set of scanners on the child, and then deliberately sent another wash of assurance through his field.

Danny looked down at the berth again. "This has gotta be Recline," he said. "Just made me feel all warm and happy inside just like he does... 'cept this was even warmer."

First Aid smiled behind his surgical mask, his own spark feeling suddenly boyante and light, his earlier anger fading completely. "No, sweetspark," First Aid said softly. "You're just feeling my field." He paused, wanting to say more. But was it really his place to mention just how much time Daniel had spent with him - and how closely attached - during those first months of his life? It had always been hard on Carly to have such a difficult time comforting her own child. Perhaps... perhaps it was better that Daniel no longer consciously recalled the connection.

Daniel, Primus bless him, solved the conundrum for First Aid. "Mom told me the reason I liked Recline so much... besides him being all cozy and nice and stuff... was because he could make himself feel like you... 'cause you saved my life when I was born too early, and I was with you a lot."

"That's true, Danny You got very used to my field while you finished developing, " First Aid said carefully, scanning once more to make sure the bone was properly set and the wires firmly in place. He then carefully extended his manipulators to the three stray bone fragments that could cause Daniel problems, injecting them with a synthetic version of the protein molecule that would attract Daniel's own osteoclasts. Daniel's own cells would break the bone down for reabsorption into his bloodstream.

"I don't remember you," Daniel said, sounding thoughtful.

First Aid nodded, retracting his extenders and smoothing a liquid bandage over the pinprick incisions. "I know, Danny. I can tell you a lot of stories about when you were a baby, if you'd like me to."

The child pondered that for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Um... maybe later?" he said, glancing over to the side at Hot Rod.

The frontliner shifted uncomfortably. "So... yeah... sorry about today, kid... Danny. I have to go, erm, give a report to Ultra Magnus. I'm sorry you broke. Your arm, I mean. I should've caught you when you fell, and, well, yeah. I wasn't paying attention."

"It's okay," Daniel said quickly. "I knew I wasn't supposed to climb there. I was showing off... again. I'm not supposed to do that 'cause I end up getting hurt. Do you think I could hang out with you again? And you could tell me some more stories about those battles you won?"

First Aid saw Hot Rod look at Daniel's arm, and felt the quick scan that followed. The medic continued to silently wrap the tiny arm with a soft layer of breathable fabric to go beneath the cast, not sure what he hoped the frontliner would say.

"I'm not sure your creators will want me watching you again, Daniel. But if they're okay with it, I'd like that," Hot Rod paused, cocking his helm as he received to a comm. "But... it'll have to wait 'til I'm outta the brig for breaking you, which is where I have to report right now."

"The brig? That stinks. I'll come see you there, okay? I've visited Sideswipe there before - he got in trouble for breaking me once, too - part of a prank. So don't worry. I get better fast."

Hot Rod's field surged with guilt once more, but he just mumbled "yeah" and "see you later, Daniel," and got himself out of Medical as fast as he could.

"I'm going to wrap your arm with this, now," First Aid said, pulling Daniel's attention back from the door by holding up the thicker casting material, which would fit over the breathable fabric.

"That looks like the same stuff on Recline," Daniel said, reaching out with his good hand to touch the mesh.

"It's based on the same material," First Aid explained, unable to help himself from letting his field warmly envelope the boy as he wrapped his arm, watching the child's face light up in response. "It will change size and shape as needed as your swelling goes down. It will feel pretty firm and tight at first, and help support your arm as it heals. As the bone heals, the gel inside will become softer, so you can start to move your arm more."

"That's awesome! I've got armor now."

First Aid didn't have it in his spark to tell Daniel that the metalogel-filled mesh hardly counted as armor, even on Recline. "You sure do," First Aid instead agreed. "You want me to inject it with some chromatophores? Turn it a color other than silver?"

Daniel looked at his arm, then up at First Aid. "I like red," he said thoughtfully, but then added, "but if it's white, can people sign it?"

First Aid laughed happily. "Sure! I can even give you a special pen that will activate different chromatophores so people can write in different colors. Sound good?"

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. "Am I all fixed now?" he asked.

First Aid shook his head. "Your bones are in the right place, but it is going to take about five weeks before we can take the metalogel wrap off. I'd like you to stay here for the night, just so I can monitor you and help you if your arm starts aching."

Daniel glanced around, as if to see if anyone else was there. "Could you... maybe... tell me some of those stories? About when I was a baby? And do that thing with your field some more?"

First Aid felt as though his spark suddenly had expanded to twice its normal radius. "Of course, Danny. I'd be delighted."

* * *

::_Hey Recline, I'm not going to be able to make our date tonight._:: First Aid commed a couple hours later, one finger happily stroking the back of the child now sleeping on his chest where he lay on the medical berth. He still had so much inventory to do, but could not convince himself to shift the sleeping child elsewhere.

::_Too much work?_:: Recline asked, his glyphs peppered with the promise to stage an intervention if needed.

::_Always, but that's not why. I've got a Daniel Witwicky sacked out on my chest, sleeping off a traumatic day._::

::_Well... we never said *what* we were doing on this date,_:: Recline considered thoughtfully, giving a pregnant pause before adding ::_though, I was thinking of making you watch Sleepless in Seattle with me, followed by ridiculously schmoopy, giggly interfacing. But that can wait. Would you and Danny like a more comfortable berth to snuggle on?_::

::_I will admit I was hoping you might suggest that,_:: First Aid said, his frame vibrating slightly with quiet laughter.

::_I've got one short session - just a meet and greet, not a full recharge. Be there in a little over an hour,_:: Recline promised.

::_Thanks, snuggles,_:: First Aid said, every one of his components feeling like it was warmly glowing.

::_Any time, m'dear. And Aid, I told you he'd remember you. Before you scold me, I didn't keep mimicking your field resonance just to make sure of that. He really was a bit of a mess after you and your brothers left... driving his mom and dad to the brink way more than even what you'd expect from a two year old Witwicky. It was the only thing that seemed to help settle him down. He just... got into the habit of coming to me for a quick snuggle when he was out of sorts._::

::_I... thank you._:: First Aid cupped his hand over the child who slept soundly, so very close to the same spot where First Aid had kept him close as the tiniest infant. ::_I'm worried for him, but maybe you can help me sort some of that out later. Not even sure I could explain why right now. I'm worried about how distant Carly is, how long it'll be 'till he sees his dad again. But I know that isn't the half of it. My triage protocols kicked in when I first saw him injured and heard him screaming - just a normal childhood injury! I scared Hot Rod out of his exhaust manifolds... not that he didn't deserve a little scaring, letting Danny get hurt like that._::

::_We'll sort it all out, dearspark,_:: Recline responded, his glyphs laden with assurances and hopeful modifiers. ::_It wouldn't surprise me at all if your spark tweaked your code a bit to add some creator-bonding algorithms back when you were practically incubating him. Don't you think Ratchet's triage coding would kick in if you were hurt?_::

First Aid scanned the child sleeping on his chest, awe intermingling with concern. Well... that would certainly explain why he'd been so irrationally furious with Hot Rod. What did the humans call it? Being a mama bear?

* * *

Daniel stirred, trying to stretch his arm and finding that he couldn't. His arm was uncomfortable and achey. He felt the bed beneath him shift, helping him to turn and find a more comfortable position, cradling his arm on a warm, slightly elevated, contoured hump.

It was only when First Aid softly asked him if he needed something for his pain that Daniel realized his back was snuggled up against First Aid's chest, just the way he liked to have his back resting against the wall in his room. He could feel the comfortable vibrations of whatever was happening inside the medic.

His arm did hurt. "Yes, please," he said, using his free hand to rub his eyes and snuggling in closer to First Aid's warmth. The medic reached around and gently touched his wrist, just below the metal-wrap-cast thing, with the noodly thing that came out of his finger. Danny heard a 'pssht' sound, and felt a pleasant numbness spread up his arm.

"That better, sweetspark?" First Aid asked him. Daniel liked the way First Aid's hand stayed cupped around him, and really liked the way his body went all warm and happy again, like being snuggled on the inside.

"Mmm hmm," he said sleepily, yawning.

His last memory as he drifted back into dreaming was First Aid quietly humming a song that Danny could've sworn he'd heard somewhere before.

* * *

_Happy Late Birthday, dear Worms! Thank you for making the world a happier, fluffier, more hopeful place *snuggles*_

_Thank you so much to Fractalserpent and Hopeofdawn for helping me whip this into shape with their amazing editorial and beta skills! *snuggles*_

_And thank you to all who are reading this series, and especially for those who leave encouragement. I'd send Recline to every one of you for a visit if I could, because you make me so happy. *snuggles*_


	13. Inevitable Part 1

**Title: **Inevitable Part 1**  
****Characters and Relationships: **First Aid/Recline, future Metroplex/Recline**  
****Rating:** R (M)

**Content: Fluffy angst, tactile, PnP, spark intimacy. Might suggest incest if you squint and apply human categories to aliens**

**Notes:** This is the missing scene when First Aid and Recline go back to Recline's quarters after First Aid's return to earth in Familiar.

Written originally for the livejournal TF_Speedwriting Advent Calendar as part of a gift-fic series (see end notes for more details).

Speedwriting Prompts:  
1. "There's no place like home."  
2. Guiding star  
3. Scenario: living in or visiting somewhere very, very cold  
4. This picture of pretty Christmas lights [ic dot pics dot livejournal dot com / femme4jack / 27024477 / 7330 / 7330_original dot jpg]

* * *

Stumbling into Recline's new quarters, First Aid was only dimly aware of his surroundings. He had a vague impression of twinkling colored lights embedded in the curved walls, a shifting fractal pattern that danced with the washes and eddies of their fields. Then Recline was everywhere - hands, cables, glossa and dente renewing their familiarity with First Aid's haptic map, even as the probing, unmuted field delved even deeper.

First Aid did little more than fall into the caresses as Recline pulled him to the contoured bench in the window nook. He needed to be touched and explored, needed the unfettered passion of Recline's desire. The world came to a halt as Recline's mesh armor and semi-solid metalogel began folding back, not along any apparent seams but with the same smooth complexity with which the berthformer shifted his shape.

"O-oh," First aid stuttered in a static gasp as he glimpsed the starstuff beneath, refracted in the facets of Recline's tower-forged crystalline chamber.

First Aid's bond coding flooded his primary threads, overwhelming his processing streams with the need to make that guiding star part of his innermost galaxy. A tertiary thread reminded him there were reasons not to bond yet, important ones that he could not call up at the moment. He dimly recalled that could trust Recline to hold them back from what seemed the most perfect inevitability, and for a brief moment, he resented his sparkmate's patience.

"Recline," he sobbed as the his thick chestplates opened wide with a pneumatic hiss and his bulky fabrication chambers shifted out of the way, "I want... I want..."

"I know, dearspark, so do I. Trust me," Recline's field was suddenly soothing, calming them, slowing them. Cables slid effortlessly into waiting sockets, the beloved other sliding through firewalls that portaled open with deep familiarity. A second codestream twined with First Aid's pressing bondcode, easing it back to latency with assurances that widening his web would happen in due time.

::_Coronae,_:: Recline promised him, eliding and twining his glossa along First Aid's in tactile imitation of their outermost sparkflare. They quickly found their resonance, and then writhing tendrils conjoined, brighter than the lights on Recline's walls that danced in response.

This they could share, ejecting as much core-mass into their outer layers as they dared before blazing to overload, accompanied by a visual symphony of supernovae on the walls.

* * *

First Aid onlined on Recline's platform, so deeply contoured to his frame that he felt as though he were within his lover's body. Cables twined around him, stroking him. More intimate still was the way he was immersed and bathed Recline's field.

"Space was so cold without you," First Aid murmured. He could almost hear Blades teasing him somewhere in his spark for being such a sap.

"Did your brothers keep you warm?" Recline's voice purred from beneath and through him.

"Differently than you do," First Aid admitted. "I can't imagine being without them, without Defensor. And it felt really good to show the neutrals that Autobots are not just about war, but-" First Aid paused, considering what glyphs and modifiers could possibly express what he felt.

"There are so many ways to love, Aid, and you have such a bright, reaching spark. How could a spark like yours be content with just one kind of bond?"

"Yes... yes," First Aid whispered, feeling so warm, so safe and cared for. "I'm tired of waiting, Recline. I don't know if it's premonition or paranoia. I just don't want to wait anymore."

Recline's field became briefly muted, making First Aid want to keen with frustration and loss. He knew it wasn't fear, or at least not any fear Recline had for himself. Recline was deeply protective of First Aid and his brothers, still so new to functioning. The berthformer was both lover and tertiary creator, one of several dozen code donors for the Protectobots, and a secondary source for First Aid's generalist medic code. He was the origin of what Wheeljack gleefully referred to as First Aid's 'bedside manner' protocols, along with coding that related to psychological repair.

While new sparks were welcome and encouraged to explore the vast number of ways to share pleasure and connection, either casually or intimately, forging actual sparkbonds beyond those of a creation cohort simply was not done. Not until the sparkcore was firmly coalesced and those creation bonds were absolutely established or rejected. Extra-cohort bondcode normally remained latent until that time. First Aid's, however, began bursting out of dormancy with stunning regularity after Recline's capture by the Stunticons.

"I'm not young," First Aid reminded him firmly. "Just new to this frame."

"Every indication's that you're right, Aid, but until Metroplex recovers his memories, or yours if he's got them, we've got to assume you're new," Recline reminded him. "Besides, those memories may change things."

"They won't," First Aid said, as confident of that as he was of anything in his functioning. He and his brothers were not even sure they planned to integrate the older memories if they were recovered. Recline was home to him, as much as his brothers were. Whatever secrets Metroplex held would not change that.

* * *

**Notes**: This is the first in a series of ficlets and longer episodes about Recline, First Aid, his gestalt, and Metroplex. It is a melding together of two thank you gift stories for Riddian and White_Aster because that is where the muses are taking the plot.

Riddian requested _fluffy fluffy Recline/First Aid porns_

White_Aster requested _Recline assigned to Metroplex either personally to keep the cityformer "tuned" or living and practicing in Metroplex and perhaps taking on Metroplex as a client...or simply a recreational lovers"_

Thank you both for inspiring me to continue this series!

I'm planning on alternating chapters between Recline/First Aid and Recline/Metroplex.

On a personal note, my writing is really slow right now due to offline life. I was hoping for a longer initial chapter to this, but decided to go ahead and post to help encourage me to find the time and energy to finish.


End file.
